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THE LITTLE FELLOW SMILED IN THE WEATHER-BEATEN FACE. 

[See page 15 . 


4 


7 

DORYMATES 


A TALE OF 


THE FISHING- BANKS 



By KIRK MUNROE 

u 

AUTHOR OF 

tl WAKULLA ” “ FLAMINGO FEATHER ” “ DERRICK STERLING ” ETC. 


EllustrateU 


NEW YORK AND LONDON 


HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 

1903 


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1 ■■■ I I « ■■■ — ' " ■ ■ — ■' 1 ■ ' ■ 1 1 - 

Copyright, 1889, by Harper & Brothers, 


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CONTENTS 




CHAPTER PAG* 

I. A Waif of the Sea 11 

II. On Board the “ Curlew ” 25 

III. The Hauling of the Seine 37 

IV. A Sudden Disaster 51 

V. Saved by Electricity % 64 

VI. The Gale on George’s 78 

VII. A Struggle for a Life 92 

VIII. A False Friend, and an Open Enemy 105 

IX. Kidnapped.— The Promise 119 

X. Trawls and Whales 132 

XI. Surrounded by Arctic Ice 145 

XII. An Ice Cave and its Prisoners 159 

XIII. Lost in the Fog 172 

XIV. The Secret of the Golden Ball 186 

XV. A Wonderful Meeting 200 

XVI. Navigating the Brig 213 

XVII. Overboard and Inboard 227 

XVIII. News from Home 240 


6 


Contents . 


OHAPTEB PAQB 

XIX. The Devil-fish of Flemish Cap 253 

XX. Oh the Coast of Iceland 266 

XXI. Tempted from Duty 279 

XXII. The Steam- yacht “Saga” 292 

XXIII. Ponies and Geysers 306 

XXIY. A Dorymate’s Home 319 

XXY. Startling Discoveries 332 

XXVI. Proud of being a Yankee . 345 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE LITTLE FELLOW SMILED IN THE WEATHER-BEATEN 

face Frontispiece. 

“I CAME TO YOU FROM THE SEA,” HE SAID, PATTING HER 

thin cheeks Faces page 28 

“ seems to me i wouldn’t feel so bad about IT IF 

i was you” “ “ 44 

“that gentleman there refuses to return a gold 

BALL AND CHAIN THAT I HANDED HIM FOR EXAMI- 
NATION ” “ u 52 

IN ANOTHER MOMENT IT FLASHES FULL IN THE WHITE 

FACES OF BREEZE M«CLOUD AND HIS COMPANIONS “ “ 68 ^ 

“YOU’RE CRAZY, LAD! YOU CAN’T LIVE A MINUTE IN 

SUCH A SEA” “ “ 90 

THERE WAS A LONG, FIRM HAND - CLASP BETWEEN 

THEM “ “ 98 ' 

“QUICK, NOW ! LET’S GET HIM ABOARD THIS SCHOONER” “ “ 116 / 

A LARGE WHALE ROSE TO THE SURFACE TO BLOW . . “ “ 140 ' 

IN A MINUTE MORE THEY HAD SNATCHED THE BUOY 

FROM THE ICE-RAFT .... “ “ 150 , 

AND THE TWO ATHLETIC YOUNG FELLOWS DREW THE 
ALMOST HELPLESS FORM OF THEIR SHIPMATE SLOW- 
LY BUT STEADILY TO WHERE THEY STOOD ... “ “ 166 

“BLOW, SONNY, BLOW!” CRIED ONE OF THE MEN . . “ “ 174 1 


8 


Illustrations, 


NOT A HUMAN BEING WAS TO BE SEEN ON BOARD OP 

HER, NOR DID THEIR HAIL RECEIVE ANY ANSWER . Faces page 198 
“ME AN’ DE CAP’N, WE’S BEEN HABIN’ A MONS’ROUS 

HARD TIME” “ “ 

“BLESS MY SOUL, IF IT ISN’T BREEZE MOCLOUD 1” . . “ “ 

NIMBUS, RAISING HIM CLEAR OF THE DECK, HELD HIM 

AT ARM’S-LENGTH ABOVE HIS HEAD “ “ 

MATEO, WITH A HOWL OF DISMAY, HAD DARTED FOR- 
WARD AND VANISHED IN THE FORECASTLE ; WHILE 
NIMBUS, WITH A YELL OF AFFRIGHT, HAD ROLLED 

AFT “ “ 

THE FIRST VIEW OF ICELAND “ “ 

THE YACHT CAME DIRECTLY TOWARDS THEM .... “ 

BREEZE’S WELCOME TO THE “ SAGA ” “ “ 

“YOU OUGHT TO HAVE WORN A DIVING SUIT, NIMBUS,” 

SAID BREEZE “ “ 

THOSE ON BOARD THE GREAT STEAMER GAZED WITH 

ADMIRATION AT THE DAINTY YACHT “ “ 

BREEZE STARED IN AMAZEMENT AT WOLFE’S MOTHER . “ 

BREEZE’S WELCOME HOME “ “ 


204 

238 

242 / 


260 

266 // 
288 
292 


310. 


326 
332 
350 t 


/ 


Do you carry a dory , captain ? 

Do you carry a dory on your deck? 

Manned by two bold fishermen , 

To save a life or board a wreck. 

Landsmen cry , “ Man the life-boat /” captain , 
“ Man the life-boat off our coast /” 
captain , man (Tie c?ory, 

TAe fisherman’s glory. 

The Banker's pride and boast. 

By the B. H. M. 
















DORYMATES: 

» 

A STORY OF THE FISHING BANKS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

A WAIF OF THE SEA. 

HPHE fog had lifted, and a few stars were to be seen 
twinkling feebly ; but the wind was very light, and 
what there was of it was dead ahead. There was a 
heavy swell rolling in from the eastward, but no sea 
running. The Gloucester fishing schooner Sea Robin 
was homeward bound from the Newfoundland Banks, 
and as she slowly climbed each glassy incline of black 
water, and then slid down into the windless hollow be- 
yond, she seemed to be making no progress whatever on 
her course. 

Although the Sea Robin had been out for more than 
four months, and had seen vessel after vessel of the fleet 
leave the Banks before she did and sail for home with 


12 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

full fares, not half the salt in her pens was used up, and 
she was returning with the smallest catch of the season. 
In spite of the fact that provisions were running low on 
board the schooner, her captain, Almon McCloud, would 
not have given up and left the Banks yet, had not a 
recent gale swept ^away his dories, and caused the loss of 
his new four-hundred-fathom cable. 

Under these circumstances the crew of the schooner 
were very low-spirited, and there was none of the lark- 
ing and fun among them that is usually to be noticed in 
a homeward-bound Banker. The men wondered a& to 
the “ Jonah” who had caused all their ill-luck. Finally 
they whispered among themselves that it must be the 
skipper. They now remembered that he had been un- 
fortunate in more than one undertaking during the past 
year or two, and all were agreed that it would be wise 
not to sail with him again. This decision had been 
unanimously reached a few days before the one on which 
this story opens; and when, shortly before daybreak, 
there came a loud pounding on the cabin hatch, and 
a request that the captain should come on deck, one of 
the watch below turned restlessly in his bunk, and 
growled out, 

“I expect we are in for another bit of the skipper’s 
tough luck.” 


13 


A Waif of the Sea . 

Reaching the deck, Captain McCloud found the two 
men on watch gazing earnestly at a dull red glow that 
lighted the distant horizon behind them. 

“ Looks like there was suthin afire hack there, skipper, ! ” 
said the man at the wheel. 

The captain waited until the schooner rose on top of 
a swell, and then, after a long look at the light, gave the 
order to put her about and run for it. 

There was some grumbling among the crew at this, 
for they were tired and sick of theutrip. They wanted 
to get home and have it over with, and this running back 
over the course they had just come seemed to promise a 
long and vexatious delay. However, lucky or unlucky, 
their skipper had proved himself to be the captain of his 
vessel in every sense of the word more times than one, 
and they dared not question his action loudly enough for 
him to hear them. 

For nearly an hour longer the light glowed steadily, 
then it expanded into a sudden wonderful brightness, and 
the next instant had disappeared entirely. 

Three hours later, just as the sun was rising in all its 
sea-born glory, the Sea Robin sailed slowly through a 
mass of charred timbers and other floating remains of 
what evidently had been a large vessel. There were no 
boats to be seen, nor was anything discovered by which 


14 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

her name or character could be identified. For some time 
the schooner cruised back and forth through the wreck- 
age in a fruitless search for survivors of the catastrophe. 
As they were about to give it up, and Captain McCloud 
had begun to issue the order to head her away again on 
her course towards home, he all at once held up his 
hand to command silence, and listened. 

It was certainly the cry of an infant that came clear 
and loud across the water. The crew looked at each 
other in amazement, not unmixed with fear. There was 
no boat to be seen, no sign of life ; and yet there it came 
again, louder and more distinct than before ; the vigorous 
cry of a healthy baby who has just waked up and is hun- 
gry. The wind had died out entirely, the water was oily 
in its unruffled smoothness, and only the long swell re- 
mained. 

Once more the cry was heard, and now it seemed so 
close at hand that several of the men trembled and 
turned pale. There was still nothing to be seen, save on 
the crest of the swell above them an apparently empty 
cask maintaining an upright position in the water, and 
showing a third of its length above it. 

“ That’s the life - boat !” shouted Captain McCloud. 
“ There’s where the music comes from, men. Oh for the 
use of a dory for just five minutes !” 


i5 


A Waif of the Sea. 

Having no boat, they could only watch the cask as it 
came slowly nearer and nearer, and several of the men 
prepared to jump overboard and swim for it in case it 
should drift past them. At last, when it was about 
thirty feet away, the skipper, making a skilful cast, set- 
tled the bight of a light line over the strange craft. 
Then he carefully drew it towards the schooner, over the 
low rail of which a couple of the crew were hanging, 
waiting with out- stretched arms to grasp it. 

A minute later the cask stood on the schooner’s deck, 
and Captain McCloud was lifting tenderly from it a 
sturdy, well-grown baby boy, apparently about two years 
old. The little fellow smiled in the weather-beaten face, 
and stretched out his arms eagerly as the rough fisherman 
bent down towards him. At the same instant there came 
a fluttering of sails overhead, with a rattling of blocks, 
and one of the crew sang out as he sprang to the wheel, 
“ Here’s a breeze ! and it’s fair for home !” 

“ The baby’s brought it !” shouted another. “ Hurrah 
for the baby !” 

The shout was eagerly taken up by the crew; three 
hearty cheers were given for the baby, and three more 
for the breeze he had brought with him. Then, springing 
to sheets and halyards with more enthusiasm than they 
had shown before on the whole cruise, the active fellows 


1 6 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

quickly had the Sea Robin under a cloud of light canvas, 
and humming merrily along towards Gloucester. 

They now found time to look at their baby, who, held 
in the skipper’s arms while he gave the necessary orders 
for working the schooner, contentedly sucked his thumb 
and gazed calmly about with the air of being perfectly 
at home. He was a beautiful child, with great blue eyes 
and yellow hair that curled in tiny ringlets all over his 
head. He was plainly dressed ; but all that he wore was 
made of tbe finest material. Altogether he was so dainty 
a little specimen of humanity that he seemed like a pink 
and white rose-bud amid the rough men who surrounded 
him. He gazed at them for a minute or two with a 
smile, as though he would say that he was most happy to 
make their acquaintance, and was not in the least embar- 
rassed by their stares. Then he turned to the skipper, 
and began to cry in exactly the tone with which he had 
announced his presence in the floating cask. 

“ Hello !” exclaimed the skipper, who, though married, 
h^d no children of his own, and had never held a baby 
before in his life, “ what’s up now ? Here, ‘ doctor,’ you’ve 
had some experience in this line,, I believe ; cast your 
weather eye over this way and tell us the meaning of the 
squall.” 

The cook, or “ doctor,” as he is almost always called on 


17 


A Waif of the Sea. 

board the fishing schooners, and, in fact, on most vessels, 
was a short, thick-set Portuguese, almost as dark as an 
Indian, but the very picture of good -nature. He now 
stepped up behind the skipper so as to have a good view 
of the baby, whose face, which rested on the skipper’s 
shoulder, was turned away from the crew, who stood look- 
ing at him in a helplessly bewildered way. 

At the “ doctor’s ” sudden appearance the baby stopped 
crying, began again to suck his thumb, and, with great, 
wide-open eyes, stared solemnly at the grinning figure to 
whom it was thus introduced. 

“ Him hongry, skip,” announced the “ doctor.” “ Me fix 
him, pret quicka, bimeby, right off. Got one lit tin cow 
lef. You fetcha him down.” 

The “ doctor,” who was named Mateo, declared after- 
wards that the moment he looked into the baby’s face the 
little one had winked at him, as much as to say, “You 
know what I want, old chap, now go ahead and get it.” 

By his “ lit tin cow ” he meant a can of condensed milk, 
and, as the only man on board who knew how to feed a 
baby, he had suddenly become the most important person 
among all the crew. Obeying his order, the skipper, with 
the new arrival in his arms, followed him down into the 
fore hold. The rest of the crew also attempted to crowd 
down into the narrow space to witness the novel sight of 
2 


1 8 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

a baby at breakfast, but old Mateo quickly ordered them 
on deck, saying that the little stranger was big enough to 
occupy all the room there was to spare. 

Then he bustled around in a hurry. He got out and 
opened the one remaining can of milk, and mixed a small 
portion of its contents with some warm water in a cup. 
The baby watched his every movement in silence, but 
with such a wise look that both the men felt he knew ex- 
actly what was going on. How came the anxious mo- 
ment — would he take the milk ? Had he learned how to 
drink ? The anxiety was quickly ended. He had learned 
to drink, and quickly emptied the proffered cup of every 
drop of its contents with an eagerness that showed how 
hungry he was. A ship biscuit, broken into small bits 
and soaked until soft in another cup of the warm milk, 
proved equally acceptable. When the members of the 
crew heard that the baby not only took kindly to the 
tin cow’s milk, but had eaten hard-tack, they were highly 
delighted. They declared that he was a natural born 
sailor, and would make a fisherman yet. 

After his breakfast the baby was laid in the skipper’s 
own bunk in the cabin, where, warmly covered, and rocked 
by the motion of the schooner, he quickly fell asleep. 

On deck the men conversed in low tones for fear of dis- 
turbing him. Their sole topic was the child’s miraculous 


19 


A Waif of the Sea. 

preservation and rescue, first from the burning vessel and 
then from the sea. The cask in which he had floated to 
them was carefully examined and pronounced to be of 
foreign make. It had evidently been prepared hastily to 
serve the novel purpose of a life-boat, but the preparation 
had been made with skill. In the bottom was a quantity 
of scrap-iron, that had served as ballast and caused it to 
float on end instead of on its side. On top of this were, 
tightly wedged, two large empty tin cans, square, and 
having screw tops ; while above these was a pillow, in 
which the baby, wrapped in a thick woollen shawl, had 
been laid. There was nothing else. Here was the baby, 
and here the cask in which he had been saved ; there, far 
behind them, was the charred wreckage, and on the sky 
the night before had shone the red glow from the burn- 
ing vessel. Where she was from, and where bound, 
whether or not others besides this helpless babe had been 
spared her awful fate, what was her name and what her 
nationality, were among the countless mysteries of the 
ocean that might never be cleared up. 

There was little satisfaction to be gained by the discus- 
sion of these things ; but the baby was a reality, and a 
novelty such .as none of them had ever before seen on 
board a fisBing schooner. Of him they talked incessantly 
during the three days’ homeward run. What they should 


20 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

call him perplexed them sadly for a time. The names 
suggested and rejected would have added several pages to 
a city directory. Finally this most important question 
was decided by the skipper, who said, “He brought a 
fair breeze with him that’s held by us ever since, and is 
giving us one of the quickest runs home ever made from 
the Banks. He’s as bright and cheery and refreshing as 
a breeze himself, and I propose that we call him 4 Breeze.’ 
It’s a name that might belong to almost any nationality, 
and yet give offence to none. As to a second name, for 
want of a better, and if he don’t discover the one he’s 
rightly entitled to, why, I’ll give him mine. What’s 
more, I’ll adopt him if his own folks don’t turn up ; that 
is, if my old woman is agreeable, and I ain’t much afraid 
but what she will be.” 

So the little waif of the sea became, and was known 
from that day forth as, Breeze McCloud — a name that was 
destined to become connected with as many exciting ad- 
ventures and hair-breadth escapes as any ever signed to 
the shipping papers of a Gloucester fishing schooner. 

The breeze that hurried the Sea Robin along was none 
too fair nor too strong ; for the supply of milk furnished 
by the “ doctor’s ” tin cow was completely exhausted be- 
fore they reached home. If they had not got in just as 
they did, the baby would have suffered from hunger, and 


21 


A Waif of the Sea. 

the whole crew would have suffered with him. As it 
was, they passed Thatcher’s Island while he was drinking 
the last of the milk. Before he was again hungry, with 
everything set and drawing, and decorated with every 
flag and bit of bunting that could be found on board, the 
saucy Sea Robin had rounded Eastern Point and was sail- 
ing merrily up Gloucester harbor. 

A crowd of people had assembled on the wharf to wit- 
ness her arrival, and learn the cause of her decorations. 
As she neared it one of them called out, 

“What is it, skipper? You’ve got your flags up as if 
you thought you was High -line* of the fleet; but the 
old Robin don’t look to be very deep. What have you 
got ?” 

“We do claim to be High-line,” shouted back the skip- 
per. “And here’s what we’ve got to prove it.” With 
this he held the baby high above his head so that all 
might see it, and added, “ If any Grand Banker has 
brought in a better fare than that this season, I want to 
see it ; that’s all.” 

So Breeze McCloud entered Gloucester harbor, and nev- 
er had any stranger been received with greater enthusi- 


* High-line. The man who catches the most fish on a trip, or the ves- 
sel that brings in the heaviest fare of the season. 


22 * Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

asm. The news of his arrival spread like wildfire, and it 
seemed as though half the population of the city had 
crowded down to the wharf to see him before Captain 
McCloud could get ready to leave the schooner. Then, 
with the baby in his arms, he stepped into the long seine- 
boat that, pulled by half a dozen lusty fellows, was wait- 
ing to take him across the harbor to the foot of the hill 
upon which his modest cottage was perched. 

After many days of anxiety — for the Sea Robin was 
long overdue — the captain’s wife, who had watched his 
schooner sail up the harbor with flags flying, now awaited 
him in a fever of impatience. She had waited at home 
because she could not bear to meet him before strangers, 
so she had heard nothing of what he was bringing her. 
When at last she saw him coming up the hill, accom- 
panied by an ever-increasing throng of men, women, and 
children, she was greatly perplexed to know what to 
make of the sight, and hurried down to the little front 
gate, where she waited for an explanation. 

“ Why ! whose child can the man have picked up ?” she 
said to herself, as her husband drew near enough for her 
to see what it was he held in his arms. 

“ The old Robin's High-line this season, Dolly,” cried 
Captain McCloud as he reached the gate, “and I’ve 
brought you my share of the catch.” 


A Waif of the Sea. 23 

“ You don’t mean that baby, Almon !” exclaimed the 
bewildered woman . 

“ Yes, I do mean this very blessed baby ! He’s a waif 
of the sea, without father, mother, or home, that anybody 
knows of ; and if you say the word, we’ll give him all 
three.” With this he held the baby towards her. 

She hesitated a moment, but the baby did not. With 
a happy little crow he at once stretched out his arms to 
her, and said, “ Mamma !” 

It was enough. All the mother -love within her re- 
sponded to this cry, and the next moment the little one 
was hugged tightly to her bosom. 

Turning to those who had accompanied him, Captain 
McCloud said, “That settles it, neighbors! I hadn’t 
much doubt of it before; now I know I am acting 
rightly ; and here, before you all, I solemnly adopt this 
baby boy, Breeze McCloud, as my son, and promise, with 
God’s help, to be a father to him in deed as well as in 
name.” 

On board the Sea Robin none of the rough nurses, not 
even the baby -wise Mateo, had dared undress the little 
one so strangely given into their charge, for fear they 
would not be able to dress him again. Thus, when he 
was delivered to Mrs. McCloud, it was evident that, next 
to food, his greatest needs were a bath and some clean 


24 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

clothes. These last his adopted mother borrowed from a 
neighbor who had children of all ages and sizes. 

When the baby was undressed it was discovered that a 
slender gold chain was clasped about his neck. Attached 
to it was a golden ball covered with a tracery of unique 
and elaborate engraving. It was apparently hollow ; but 
nobody was able to open it, nor could they discover any 
joint on its surface, so skilful was the workmanship that 
had created it. Finally, declaring that it was merely an 
ornament and not meant to be opened, Mrs. McCloud put 
it carefully away in a sandal-wood box, among her own 
little hoard of treasures. 

In that box the golden ball lay for years, almost unno- 
ticed, but ever guarding jealously the secret that some 
day should exert such a wonderful influence over the 
fortunes of the baby from whose neck it had been taken. 


On Board the “Curlew'. 


25 




CHAPTER II. 

ON BOARD THE “CURLEW.” 

T^IFTEEN years seems a long time, and yet when they 
are happy years how quickly they pass ! They had 
been happy to Breeze McCloud ; happy and busy years. 
No boy in Gloucester had a pleasanter home or more 
loving parents than he, though he was but an adopted 
son. He rarely thought of this, though, for Captain 
McCloud had, from the very first, been a true father, and 
the captain’s wife a loving mother to him. No other 
children had come to them since they had taken him into 
their hearts and home, and he was their pride and delight. 
He had grown to be a tall, handsome fellow, interested in 
his studies, and a bright scholar, but always impatient 
for the time to come when he should go out into the 
world and win from it his own livelihood. 

Whenever Captain McCloud was at home the boy was 
his constant companion, and from him Breeze eagerly 
learned the rudiments of a sailor’s art. He delighted in 
being called his father’s “ dorymate,” and was very proud 


26 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

of being able to swim, and to row and sail his own dory, 
before he was twelve years old. 

Being so much in his father’s company, and listening to 
the conversations between him and other men, gave 
Breeze many ideas beyond the comprehension of most 
boys of his age. He sometimes wore a grave and 
thoughtful air, and often said wise things that sounded 
oddly enough in one so young. 

The boy’s curly head was a familiar sight on board 
most of the fishing schooners that were constantly com- 
ing into or going out of the port. Here he was perfectly 
happy while listening to some tale of adventure on the 
Banks or more distant fishing grounds, perhaps told by 
its hero* on the breezy deck or in the snug cabin of the 
very craft on which it had all happened. 

At last the time had come for him to set forth in quest 
of similar adventures, and to do his share towards main- 
taining the home that had been such a safe and pleasant 
one to him. There was sorrow in it now, and there 
might soon be want. The Sea Robin had been gone six 
months, and no word had been received from her since 
the day she sailed out beyond Eastern Point, and van- 
ished in the red glory of the rising sun. 

Only in the hearts of his wife and adopted son did the 
faintest hope remain that the Robin's captain was still 


On Board the “Curlew? 27 

alive. To all others he was as dead, and a new bread- 
winner was needed in his place. 

“ I must go now, mother,” said Breeze. “ I’m large and 
strong for my age, and if they’ll take me I am sure I can 
do a man’s work and earn a man’s wages.” 

“ Oh, Breeze, my dear boy ! my comfort ! Is there not 
something else you can do ? A clerkship would pay just 
as well, and there would be none of the horrible danger.” 

“ Don’t, mother ! don’t urge it ! It makes me heart-sick 
to think of a desk, or of being shut up all day in a store. 
I should never be good for anything, you know I wouldn’t, 
mother dear, trying to do work that I had no heart in.” 

“ But, Breeze — ” 

“ But, mother ! Please don’t think any more about a 
clerkship. Give me your consent and your blessing, and 
let me follow father’s calling and gain a living from the 
sea, as he has done. I came to you from the sea, you 
know,” he continued, with a winning smile, and patting 
her thin cheeks. “ It was kind to me then, and it always 
will be, I am sure.” 

After many talks of this kind Breeze carried his point. 
Then, one evening in March, there was no prouder boy in 
town than he, when he was able to announce to his moth- 
er that he had shipped for a mackerelling trip to the south- 
ward, on the schooner Curlew. 


28 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

The vessel was already taking in her ice and stores, and 
would haul out into the stream the next morning, ready 
to start. Breeze was to go over to town the first thing 
after breakfast, and buy the oil-skin suit, rubber boots, and 
woollen cap that, besides the canvas bag of heavy clothing 
he would take from home, would form his outfit. These 
he would send aboard the schooner. Then he would 
come home again and say good-by if there was time — 
but perhaps there would not be, and so they had better 
make the most of this evening. 

They did make the most of it, and until after ten 
o’clock, Breeze and his mother sat hand in hand, and 
talked, she sadly and tearfully, he bravely and hopefully. 

The next morning, just before he left, his mother called 
him into her room, saying, “ I have one more thing to 
give you, Breeze. It is something that should be the 
most precious thing in the world to you, and I want you 
to wear it always.” With this she took from the Randal- 
wood box, that had kept it safely all these years, the 
slender chain and golden ball that had hung around his 
baby neck when she first held him in her arms. 

Breeze was inclined to laugh at the idea of wearing a 
gold chain and a locket around his neck; but his mother 
was so in earnest in her desire that he should, that he 
promised to do as she wished. 



“I CAME TO YOU FROM THE SEA,” HE SAID, PATTING HER THIN CHEEKS* 





* 













































» 





\ 










I 


























































♦ 

































On Board the “ Curlew . 


29 


“ It was, doubtless, your own mother first placed it there, 
and I have a strong feeling that it will, somehow or other, 
have much to do with your future safety and happiness,” 
she said. “ See, I have made a little pocket in the breast 
of each of your flannel shirts to hold it,” she added, as 
she clasped the chain about his neck and kissed him. 

“ Own mother, or not own mother, no boy ever had a 
better, or sweeter, or dearer, or more loving mother than 
you have been to me,” cried Breeze, throwing his arms 
about her neck, “ and I would not exchange you for any 
other in the world, not even if she was a queen.” 

Now that the time to go had really come, the boy 
found it a very hard thing to part from his home. After 
he had kissed his mother good-by, and started down the 
hill, with his canvas bag on his shoulder, he dared not 
look back, though he knew she was standing in front of 
the little cottage watching him. 

He had barely time in town to make his few purchases 
before the Curlew should sail; for wind and tide were 
both favorable, and her skipper was impatient to take ad- 
vantage of them and get started. His hurry was owing 
to the fact that several other schooners were getting 
ready for trips to the same waters. He was anxious to 
be the first on the ground, and, if possible, carry the first 
fresh mackerel of the season into New York. 


30 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

Although everybody has seen and eaten mackerel 
either fresh or salted, and though they are caught in im- 
mense numbers off the Atlantic coast of the United 
States every year, there is but little really known about 
them. Where they come from and where they go to 
are still unsolved mysteries. Every spring, between the 
middle of March and the middle of April, they appear in 
great shoals in the waters just north of Cape Hatteras. 
At this time they are very thin, and hardly fit for food ; 
but on the coast feeding-grounds they rapidly improve, 
until in the early summer, when they have worked their 
way northward to New England waters, they are in 
prime condition. They generally run as far north as the 
Gulf of St. Lawrence, from which, in the fall, they sud- 
denly disappear, to be seen no more until the following 
spring. 

All through the summer, but especially at the very 
first of the season, those that are caught near a port are 
packed in ice and carried in to the market fresh. The 
greater part of the year’s catch is, however, salted in bar- 
rels on board the schooners, and afterwards repacked on 
shore, in kits or boxes, marked according to the size and 
quality of the fish they contain, Nos. 1, 2, 3, or 4, and sent 
all over the world. 

The cruise on which Breeze McCloud was about to 


On Board the “Curlew '. 


31 


start was to be made in search of the very first mackerel 
of the season, and the Curlew's destination was therefore 
the waters off the Delaware coast, or between there and 
Cape Hatteras. 

By ten o’clock everything was in readiness for the 
start. The skipper had come on board, and all hands 
were hard at w T ork, making sail or breaking out and get- 
ting up the heavy anchor. Then it was “ up jib and 
away.” As the lively craft slipped swiftly down the 
harbor, Breeze found time for one long last look at his 
home. At the cottage door he could just make out a 
waving handkerchief, that told him he was being watched 
and remembered. 

Once outside, all hands were kept busy for a couple of 
hours, setting light sails, coiling lines, stowing odds and 
ends, and making everything snug. The course they 
were heading would carry them just clear of Cape Cod ; 
and before a spanking breeze, under a press of canvas, 
the Curlew tore along as though sailing an ocean race 
that she was bound to win. Almost any fishing vessel 
but a mackereller going out at this stormy season would 
have left both top-masts and her jib-boom at home, being 
content with the safest of working sails. To the early 
mackerel catcher, however, every minute gained may mean 
many extra dollars in pocket; so his craft sails in racing 
3 


3 2 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

trim, and carries her canvas to the extreme of reckless- 
ness. 

Like all fishing schooners, the Curlew had a forecastle, 
in which several of the crew slept, and in which were also 
the cook-stove and mess-table. Back of it was the pantry 
and store-room, in which were ten fresh -water tanks. 
Still farther aft was the hold, divided into pens by parti- 
tions of rough boards. These were now filled with cakes 
of ice, but later would be used for fish. Abaft the hold 
was the cabin, in which the skipper and five of the crew 
found sleeping accommodations. It was neatly finished 
in ash, and running along three sides of it was a broad 
transom that served as a seat or lounging-place. The 
only furniture was a small coal-stove, securely fastened in 
the middle of the floor. On the walls hung a clock, 
a barometer, and a thermometer. A few charts were 
stowed overhead in a rack, and, flung around in the 
bunks or on the transom, were a number of paper-cov- 
ered novels. 

The business of fishing is conducted upon the system 
of shares. That is, half the value of the catch, after out- 
fitting expenses have been deducted, goes to the owners 
of the vessel, and half to the crew. Although the skipper 
and cook are not required to take part in the actual busi- 
ness of fishing, each of them receives a full share. The 


On Board the “ Curlew 


skipper gets, in addition, four per cent, of the value of the 
catch, and the cook has regular wages. 

The living on board a fishing schooner is generally 
superior to that on almost any other craft. It consists of 
fresh meat, whenever it can be obtained, fresh fish, vege- 
tables, dried fruit, soft bread, cakes and pies, eggs, con- 
densed milk, and always tea and coffee, hot, strong, and 
in abundance. 

The Curlew was manned by a picked crew of twelve 
men, including the skipper and cook. They were young, 
strong, and active, and, except Breeze, all were skilful fish- 
ermen. He had been considered very fortunate in obtain- 
ing a berth at a time of year when there are so many 
good men anxious to ship. That he had done so was 
largely owing to the friendship existing between the skip- 
per, Captain Ezra Coffin, and his adopted father. 

When he had consented to ship the boy for this trip, 
the skipper said, 

“ It’s a hard life, Breeze, and one full of chances. Every 
man aboard may have a hundred dollars to his credit be- 
fore the week is out, and then again we may cruise for a 
month and not make enough to pay for our ice. You 
are only a boy, but you will have to do a man’s work, and 
hard work at that. There are perils of all kinds waiting 
on every minute of the night and day, and they’ll come 


34 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

when you least expect them. I’d rather a boy of mine 
would saw wood for a living on land than to try and 
make it by fishing. Besides all this, as you are a green 
hand, I can only offer you half a share for this trip. Still, 
if you are bound to come, I’m glad to have you, both for 
your own sake and for that of my old dorymate, Almon 
McCloud. So bring along your dunnage, lad, and may 
good-luck come with you !” 

Breeze had answered, “ I know it won’t be all plain sail- 
ing, sir, and that I’ve got a lot to learn before I can be 
called an A 1 hand. Still, hard and dangerous as you say 
the business is, I’d rather try and make a living at it than 
at anything else I know of, and I am much obliged to* you 
for giving me a chance.” 

Soon after leaving port, the skipper called all hands aft 
to draw for bunks and to ‘‘thumb the hat.” The bunks 
had numbers chalked on them, and now the skipper held 
in his hand as many small sticks as there were men in the 
crew. Each stick had notches cut in it corresponding to 
the numbers of the bunks, and one by one the crew 
stepped up and drew them from the skipper’s hand. 
Thus the sleeping quarters were distributed with perfect 
fairness, and there was no chance for grumbling. Breeze 
was lucky enough to draw one of the wide bunks in the 
cabin, and at once hastened to stow his possessions in it. 


On Board the “Curlew. 


35 


When all the berths had been thus distributed, the crew 
again gathered aft, and each man placed a thumb on the 
rim of an old straw hat that had been laid on top of the 
cabin. The skipper turned his back to them, one of the 
men named a number, and, without looking to see whose 
it was, the skipper touched one of the thumbs. Then he 
counted around until the number mentioned was reached. 
The man at whose thumb he stopped was to stand first 
watch and trick at the wheel, the next man on his right 
the second, and so on. There would be two men on watch 
in bad weather, but one is generally considered sufficient 
when it is fine. 

With the parting injunction to “ mind, now, and remem- 
ber who you are to call,” the skipper went below. As 
eight bells, or twelve o’clock, was struck, the man who 
had first watch took the wheel, gave a glance at the com- 
pass, another at the sails, and the regular routine of duty 
was begun. 

Now dinner was announced, and after the skipper was 
seated, the half of the crew that reached the mess-table 
and secured seats were entitled to eat at “ first table” 
during the trip. The others had to be content to eat at 
u second table.” Breeze was not posted as to this, and 
consequently was among those who got left when the 
rush took place. Afterwards, this seemingly trifling cir- 


36 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

cumstance proved to be of the most vital importance to 
him, as we shall see. 

The cruise thus fairly begun was continued without in- 
cident until the Curlew reached the fishing grounds off 
the Virginia capes. Then, under easy sail, she stood off 
and on, with a man constantly at the mast-head, scanning 
the surface of the water in the hope of seeing mackerel. 
The great seine -boat was got overboard, and with the 
seine in it, was towed behind the schooner, ready for in- 
stant use. 

At length, after four tedious days of this work, the im- 
patient crew were brought tumbling on deck in a hurry 
one fine morning by the welcome cry of “ There they 
school ; half a mile away, off the weather bow !” 


The Hauling of the Seine . 


37 


CHAPTER III. 

THE HAULING OF THE SEINE. 

T less than five minutes after the first cry announcing 
the appearance of the eagerly expected fish, the great 
thirty-foot, double-ended seine-boat, rowed by eight men, 
had left the schooner and started in the direction of the 
school. In its stern, with his hand on the long steering 
oar, stood the seine -master, directing the course of the 
boat and keeping a sharp lookout ahead. Pulling after 
them as fast as he could was Breeze McCloud, in the sin- 
gle dory that the Curlew carried. The schooner, left in 
charge of the skipper and cook, was thrown up into the 
wind, and was held as nearly stationary as possible until 
it could be seen where she would be wanted. 

“ Come, stretch yourselves, lads ! stretch yourselves ! 
Let’s see who’ll break the first oar ! Those other fellows 
are just humping themselves. It’s Yankee against Yankee 
this time, and you’ve got a tough lot to beat,” shouted 
the seine-master. 

He would, of course, have been very sorry to have an oar 


38 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

broken, but he had such confidence that the men could do 
no more than bend the tough ash blades, no matter how 
hard they tugged, that he was perfectly willing they 
should try. By the “ other fellows ” he meant the crew of 
another fishing schooner, which day fight of that morning 
had disclosed not far from them, and which had evidently 
discovered mackerel about the same time they had. They, 
too, were out in their seine -boat, and doubtless looked 
forward with as great confidence as did the men from the 
Curlew to taking the first fare of the season into New 
York. 

“ Easy, lads, easy now !” ordered the seine-master, in a 
tone of suppressed excitement ; “ here’s our school.” Now 
he tossed overboard a small keg, or buoy, to which was 
attached one end of the upper, or cork fine of the great 
net. Near this Breeze was to wait in his dory. Then, 
bending to their oars, the boat’s crew began to pull, with 
lusty strokes, in a great circle around the school of fish 
that was rippling the water close beside them. Swim- 
ming in a dense body close to the surface, often throwing 
themselves clear of the water, with their steely blue sides 
flashing in the morning fight, the mackerel were darting 
madly hither and thither. At one instant the whole 
school, moved bv some mysterious impulse, would make a 
simultaneous dash in one direction, and the next it would 


The Hauling of the Seine. 39 

as suddenly rush back again. In the cool dim depths be- 
neath them, dog-fish, sharks, and other hungry sea pirates 
were breakfasting off the newly arrived strangers, and de- 
vouring them by the score. In the air above them circled 
and swooped great fishing hawks, anxious to make a meal 
off of fresh mackerel. How to these enemies was added 
man, the most cruel and greatly to be dreaded of all. Ho 
wonder the poor fish were frightened and undecided as to 
the direction of their flight from so many imminent dan- 
gers. 

Meantime the great net, a quarter of a mile long, had 
been skilfully drawn completely around them. Breeze, 
in his dory, obeying previously given instructions, car- 
ried the buoy that had first been thrown overboard to 
the seine-boat, in which the other end of the cork-line 
was still held and made fast. The circle was now perfect, 
and the fish were surrounded by a wall of fine but stout 
twine. Their only chance of escape lay at the bottom of 
the net, and in another minute this opening wopld also 
be closed against them. 

While the upper edge of the seine was floated by means 
of numerous large corks attached to the rope that ran 
along its entire length, its lower edge was sunk and 
held straight down by an equal number of leaden rings. 
Through these ran a second stout line, known as the 


40 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ purse rope,” an end of which remained in the boat. By 
pulling on this all the leaden rings could he drawn close 
together, and as the net was now in the form of a circle, 
its lower edge would form a purse in which there would 
be no opening for escape. 

Hauling on this rope and “ pursing” the seine is the 
hardest part of the entire job, and takes the united efforts 
of the seine-boat’s crew. It is also a most exciting opera- 
tion, for if it is successfully accomplished the fish are 
caught and an ample reward for all the previous toil is 
almost certain. If, on the other hand, the fish take alarm 
at the last moment and dart downward through the still 
open bottom of the net, all the hard work goes for noth- 
ing and must be done over again, perhaps many times be- 
fore a successful haul is made. 

Such was the case in this instance. Success was almost 
within reach of the Curlew’s crew, when suddenly the en- 
tire school of fish, upon which they were building such 
high hopes, dropped out of sight like so many leaden plum- 
mets, and were gone. They had evidently decided that 
there were more chances for life among the sharks and 
dog-fish than within the power of their human enemies, 
and had wisely seized their last chance of escape from 
them. 

It was a bitter disappointment, and it was made the 


4i 


The Hauling of the Seine . 

keener by the sight of certain movements on boaxd the 
rival schooner that indicated a successful pursing of their 
seine and a heavy catch of fish. Slowly, and with much 
grumbling over their hard luck, the Curlew’s men gathered 
in their net and empty seine. They piled it up carefully, 
rings forward and corks aft, in the after-part of their boat, 
ready for the next time. Then they listlessly pulled tow- 
ards their schooner, which was lying near by, and on board 
which breakfast awaited them. 

The Curlew sailed close to the other schooner in order 
to learn her luck, and witness the lively scene about her. 
The stranger’s seine had enclosed an enormous school of 
fish, which was estimated at nearly, if not quite, five hun- 
dred barrels. One end of it had been got on board the 
schooner, and the dipping out of the fish was about to be- 
gin. They were greatly frightened, and rushed from side 
to side with such violence that many of them were crushed 
to death. All at once they sank, and their weight was so 
great as to draw one gunwale of the heavy seine -boat 
under the water, although eight men were perched on the 
opposite side to counterbalance it. 

When a crew find a greater quantity of fish on their 
hands than they can take care of, as was the case now, it 
is customary, if there is another vessel within hail, to give 
her the surplus rather than to throw it away. Having 


42 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks, 

often done this himself, Captain Coffin did not hesitate, as 
the two schooners drew close together, to hail the other 
skipper and ask if he had any fish to give away. 

“ No, I haven’t,” was the surly answer. “ If you want 
fish go and catch ’em.” 

“All right,” answered Captain Coffin, somewhat pro- 
voked, but still good-naturedly ; “ we’re the lads can just 
do that, and we’ll beat you into New York yet.” 

“Looks like it now, doesn’t it?” shouted the other, 
scornfully. “If you do, though, it won’t be because I 
helped you. I’d rather lose every fish I’ve got alongside 
here than to give you one of them.” 

These words were hardly out of his mouth when the 
captured fish darted violently towards the bottom of the 
net, and the seine-boat was nearly capsized, as has been 
related. Its crew hurriedly scrambled to the upper side. 
Suddenly the boat righted, so quickly that the whole eight 
men were flung overboard, and found themselves floun- 
dering in the cold water. 

The situation was startling as well as comical, though 
the explanation of what had happened was very simple. 
The frightened fish, in their downward rush, had torn a 
great hole in the net, which was an old one, and through 
it they had instantly darted to depths of safety. The 
seine, being thus relieved of its burden, no longer pulled 


The Hauling of the Seine . 43 

the boat down, and it at once yielded to the weight of the 
men on its upper gunwale. 

Under ordinary circumstances this mishap would have 
excited the sympathy of those on board the Curlew. Now, 
on account of the uncivil reply of the rival skipper to 
their captain, they were inclined to rejoice at what had 
happened, and they roared with laughter at the rueful 
faces of the dripping men as they scrambled back into 
their boat. 

To Breeze the whole affair presented itself in such a 
comical aspect that he laughed louder and longer than 
any of the others, though in a perfectly good-humored 
way, and without a trace of an unkind feeling towards 
those who had been so unfortunate. His mirth was, how- 
ever, deemed peculiarly irritating by one of the rival crew, 
a young man with an ugly face that bore unmistakable 
traces of dissipation. He shook his fist at Breeze and 
called out, 

“Never you mind, young feller, I’ll not forget you! 
And maybe I’ll find a chance to make you laugh out of 
the other side of your mouth some day.” 

This speech sobered Breeze at once, though at first he 
looked around in a bewildered way, thinking it could not 
possibly be meant for him, When he realized that it 
was he shouted back. 


44 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“ Seems to me I wouldn’t feel so bad about it if I was 
you. I wasn’t laughing at you, anyway. I was laughing 
to think how surprised those mackerel must have been 
when you went diving down after them, trying to catch 
’em in your hands.” 

This raised another shout of laughter from the Curlew 
men, but the young man towards whom it was directed 
only shook his fist again at Breeze, and turned away with- 
out a word, going below to find some dry clothes. 

Breeze saw that he had unwittingly made for himself 
an enemy in this stranger, and for a time the knowledge 
caused him real distress. He was a warm-hearted boy, 
preferring friendships to enmities, and would at any time 
sacrifice his own pleasure or comfort to win the former 
and overcome the latter. At the same time, he was not 
sorry that he had asserted his own independence and an- 
swered back as he had. The incident soon passed from 
his mind, however, in the rush of more stirring events, 
and it was some time before he was again reminded 
of it. 

Captain Coffin was much puzzled to account for the 
surliness of the rival skipper until the Curlew passed astern 
of the other schooner, so that her name, Boxy B., and her 
hailing port could be read. Then it flashed across him 
that this was the Bockhaven craft that was thought to 


SEEMS TO ME I WOULDN’T FEEL SO BAD ABOUT IT IF I WAS YOU 











45 


The Hauling of the Seine . 

be so fast, but which he had beaten in a fair race on a 
run into Boston the summer before. 

To bear ill-will for such a cause certainly showed a 
small and mean mind, and Captain Coffin said he was 
very glad the other had refused to let him have any fish, 
for he should hate to be under obligations to such a man. 

The Curlew had not gone more than a mile from the 
Roxy B. when the fish of which she was in search began 
to rise to the surface on all sides of her. The seine-boat 
was quickly sent out, while Breeze, in his dory, followed 
it as before. This time a school was successfully sur- 
rounded, and the net was pursed without a mishap. A 
flag hoisted on an oar in the boat was the signal to the 
schooner that they had made a large haul and needed her 
assistance. She was soon brought alongside of the pursed 
seine with its burden of glittering fish, and from it a long- 
handled scoop-net, worked with a tackle, was dipping 
them, a half-barrelful at a time, and transferring them to 
her deck. 

The catch was about one hundred and fifty barrels of 
mackerel that were of a prime quality as to size, but so 
thin that they would have been unfit to split and salt. 
The afternoon was drawing to a close before they were 
all got on board and the seine was properly stowed in its 
boat ; but there was no rest for the tired crew yet a while. 

4 


46 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

Sail was made on the schooner, and she was headed for 
Sandy Hook, nearly three hundred miles away. Then all 
hands, except the cook and the man at the wheel, turned 
to and began “ gibbing ” and packing the fish. 

Mackerel are so delicate that they die almost as soon as 
they touch a deck, and will quickly spoil if not cared for 
at once. So there was no time to lose, and the whole 
catch must be “ gibbed,” or cleaned, and packed in ice 
before sleep could be thought of. 

In “ gibbing ” a mackerel the gills are plucked out, and 
with them come the entrails. This operation w r as per- 
formed with marvellous rapidity by the skilled workers 
of the crew, the refuse matter was tossed into square 
wooden boxes known as “ gib-tubs,” and the cleaned fish 
were thrown into bushel baskets. 

Down in the hold the blocks of ice were removed from 
a pen, and reduced to small bits by heavy sharp-pointed 
“ slicers.” A layer of this broken ice was shovelled over 
the bottom of the empty pen, and above it was spread a 
basket of fish. Then came another layer of ice, then 
more fish, and so on until the pen was full, Avhen another 
was emptied and filled in the same manner. It was long 
after midnight before the crew of the Curlew knocked off 
work, with the last of their fish safely packed away ; but, 
tired as they were, they w r ere also highly elated by their 


The Hauling of the Seine. 47 

success, and by the prospect of being the first mackereller 
of the season into New York. 

The next day, spent in running up the coast with a brisk 
westerly breeze, was one of the happiest that can come to 
the in-shore fisherman. Everybody was in the best of 
humor, from the knowledge that they had, stowed beneath 
their hatches, a fair-sized catch of the very earliest macker- 
el of the season. They knew these would bring an extra 
price, and pay each of them at least twice as much as they 
would make under more ordinary circumstances. There 
was little to do except stand watch and clean ship ; so 
that most of the day was devoted to the spinning of yarns 
in the forecastle, and the singing of songs to a banjo ac- 
companiment in the cabin. The cook made them a great 
dish of Joe-floggers (peculiar pancakes stuffed with plums) 
for breakfast, and a gorgeous plum-duff for dinner. Upon 
the whole, Breeze enjoyed the day so thoroughly that he 
wondered how anybody could complain of the hardships 
of a fisherman’s life, or think it anything but fascinating. 

They passed the double Highland lights, and rounding 
Sandy Hook, stood up New York Bay some time during 
the following night ; the next morning, by daylight, they 
were snugly moored in the Fulton Market slip, among 
scores of other fishing vessels, none of which had on board 
a single mackereL Theirs was the first catch of the sea- 


48 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

son, and before breakfast-time it had been sold in bulk 
for three thousand dollars. Of this, after expenses were 
deducted, each full share amounted to ninety-two dollars, 
while the half share credited to Breeze was forty-six dol- 
lars. This seemed to him a large sum of money to have 
been earned in a week, only one day and night of which 
had been devoted to real hard work. He at once wrote 
to his mother telling her the good news, and as he did so 
he felt that he had become, if not an important member 
of society, at least a very wealthy one. 

In the afternoon he took a short walk through the 
lower part of the great city, but became so bewildered by 
the noise, bustle, and crowds of people that he dared not 
go very far for fear of getting lost. On one of the down- 
town streets that he did visit he was attracted by the sight 
of a jeweller’s window. This reminded him of what his 
mother had said, that if anybody could open the golden 
ball that hung from the chain around his neck it would 
be a city jeweller. 

Entering the store, he stepped up to an elderly gentle- 
man who stood behind a desk, and unclasping the chain, 
handed it and the ball to him, saying, “ I don’t know 
whether this ball will open or not ; can you tell me, sir ?” 

The jeweller examined the trinket carefully, and seemed 
particularly interested in the unique tracery with which 


49 


The Hauling of the Seine . 

it was ornamented. For several minutes lie did not 
speak; then he asked, abruptly, “ Where did you get 
this?” 

Breeze told him in a few words all that he knew of its 
history as well as his own. 

“ H’m,” said the jeweller. “ You wait here a moment, 
while I show this to my partner.” 

He was gone so long that Breeze began to grow uneasy, 
and had just about made up his mind to go in search of 
him, when he returned. He was accompanied by a low- 
browed, swarthy individual, who, when Breeze was point- 
ed out, stepped up to him and said, 

“ This trinket, that you have brought in, is quite a nov- 
elty in our line, and I should like to buy it of you. It is 
a puzzle-charm of East Indian make. Unless one knows 
the secret of its construction, it cannot possibly be opened 
except by an accident that might not happen in ten thou- 
sand times of trying. I learned my trade in Calcutta, and 
am probably the only man in Hew York City to-day who 
can open this little ball. You see that I can do it.” 

Here he showed Breeze the ball open, but did not let 
him see its contents. Then turning his back for an in- 
stant, he again displayed it closed as before. 

“What will you take for it?” he asked. 

“ It’s not for sale,” answered Breeze, “but I am willing 


50 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

to pay for learning the trick of how to open it, for I am 
curious to know what it contains.” 

“ That information is not for sale either, nor will I tell 
you what the ball contains,” said the jeweller. “More- 
over, if you will not sell it to me, or show me some proof 
that you are its rightful owner, I shall keep it until I can 
place it in the hands of the police, for it is my belief that 
you have stolen it.” 


A Sudden Disaster . 


5i 


CHAPTER IV. 


A SUDDEN DISASTER 


HE jeweller’s accusation was so unexpected and 



startling to Breeze that he flushed hotly, and for a 
moment found no words to answer it. Then he demanded, 
indignantly, 

“ How dare you say such a thing ? Give me back my 
property instantly, or I shall be the one to call in the 
police !” 

“ Certainly, my young friend, certainly, when you pro- 
duce the proof that it is yours,” replied the man, dropping 
the trinket into a drawer, of which he turned the lock. 

There was no element of decision lacking in Breeze’s 
character ; he was -quick to act in emergencies, and with- 
out another word he stepped to the door. A small boy 
was passing. 

“ Sonny,” said Breeze, “ run quick and bring a police- 
man. If he is here within five minutes I will give you 
five cents.” 

The boy, keenly alive to a situation that promised so 


52 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

much excitement as this, started off on a run. Breeze 
remained standing where he could survey the whole in- 
terior of the store, and could especially keep an eye on the 
drawer in which lay his property. 

The men inside watched him closely. They had seen 
him despatch the boy on some errand, hut had not over- 
heard what he said, and did not know what it was. Now 
the one who had opened the ball approached him and 
said, 

“Why don’t you go for your proofs? You had better 
hurry, as we shall close up soon, and then we could not 
look at them until to-morrow.” 

“ I have sent for them,” answered Breeze, simply. 

“Oh,” said the man, somewhat disconcerted. “Well, 
of course, if they come in time, and are satisfactory, you 
shall have your charm back, and an apology into the 
bargain.” 

“Here comes one of them now,” replied Breeze, as he 
handed a five-cent piece to a breathless small boy, who 
came running up just in front of a big policeman. 

To this officer Breeze said, “ That gentleman there,” 
pointing to the dark-skinned jeweller, “ refuses to return 
a gold ball and chain that I handed him for examination. 
He says he thinks I stole them, and he has locked them 
up in a drawer. I think I can bring one of the best- 


HANDED HIM FOE, EXAMINATION. 


1 








A Sudden Disaster. 


53 


known men in New York to vouch for my honesty ; but 
it may be some time before I can find him. Now, I want 
to know if you will take this trinket, as the gentleman 
calls it, and keep it for me until I return ?” 

“ Why not just as well leave it where it is ?” interrupted 
the jeweller, eagerly. “ It will be perfectly safe here, as 
this otficer knows.” 

“No,” said Breeze, “ that will not do. You must give 
it to the officer at once, or else I shall go to the police- 
station, and enter a complaint against you for stealing.” 

The partners whispered together for a minute. Evi- 
dently the bold stand taken by the lad, and his prompt 
action, had made a decided impression upon them. 

Before they could reach a decision as to what they 
should do, the officer spoke up and said, 

“ The young man is right. If there is any stolen prop- 
erty in the question, the proper place for it is in the sta- 
tion - house. So, if you will just hand over this article, 
whatever it is, I will take it there.” 

There was no appeal from this decision. The locket 
was reluctantly given up to the officer, who took both it 
and Breeze to the station-house near by. Here the ser- 
geant in charge listened attentively to all that he had 
to say, as well as to the story Breeze had to tell. 

“ Go with him,” he said, finally, to the officer, “ down 


54 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

to the schooner, and see what sort of a character his cap- 
tain gives him. Then bring him back here.” 

With this he placed the golden ball and chain in a 
drawer of his own desk, and again turned to his writing. 

Breeze and the officer found Captain Coffin talking to 
the gentleman to whom he had sold his cargo of fish that 
morning. He happened to be not only a prominent busi- 
ness man, but an active local politician, and was the very 
person whom Breeze had in his mind when he had offered 
to bring a well-known citizen to establish his character. 

Begging their pardon for the interruption, Breeze told 
his story to Captain Coffin, and the politician also listened 
to it. 

When the story was finished, the latter, turning to the 
captain, said, “Can you vouch for this lad’s honesty, 
skipper ?” 

“Certainly I can, as I would for my own,” was the 
answer. “ I have known him from his babyhood, and, 
moreover, I have often heard this golden ball spoken of 
by his adopted father, though I have never seen it.” 

“ Then,” said the other, “ supposing we step up to the 
police-station, and have it returned to him. It is one of 
the most curious cases I ever heard of, and I am inter- 
ested to see that the boy comes out of it all right.” 

Within ten minutes the sergeant had been satisfied 


A Sudden Disaster . 


55 


that Breeze was the rightful owner of the locket, had 
returned it to him, and he had again clasped its chain 
about his neck. He was very happy in thus regaining 
possession of it, and very thankful to those who had so 
promptly assisted him. When Captain Coffin proposed 
that they should now go to the jeweller’s shop and get 
him to again open the ball, Breeze begged him not to 
think of such a thing. “ I don’t want that man ever to 
get it into his possession,” he said, “ and I don’t believe 
he’d open it for us anyway, now.” 

“ I guess the boy is about right,” remarked the politi- 
cian, thoughtfully. “That fellow has evidently some 
strong reason for wishing to obtain the trinket, and if he 
got hold of it again he might change it for another that 
looked just like it, and we never be the wiser.” 

This was just what Breeze had thought of when he had 
refused to leave the jeweller’s shop and go in search of 
proofs of his ownership of the locket, and he was greatly 
pleased at this evidence that he had acted wisely. 

That night the Curlew sailed out of Hew York Bay, 
and was once more headed to the southward in search of 
the early mackerel. The following day was clear and 
bright, but very cold for that season of the year. There 
were only a few clouds to be seen ; but the sky was 
coppery in color, and the wind, which was still off-shore, 


56 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

was fitful and baffling. At supper-time, about an hour 
before sunset, the man at the wheel, who happened to be 
one of those who ate at the first table, said, 

“ Here, McCloud, you belong to second mess ; take the 
wheel while I eat supper, will you ?” 

“ Certainly I will,” answered Breeze, cheerfully. 

“ What’s the course ?” 

“ South by west, half west, an open sea, a favoring 
wind, and no odds asked or given,” was the laughing 
response, as the man hurried forward. 

Captain Coffin was impatient to get back among the 
mackerel, and so the schooner was running under all the 
sail she could carry, including a jib-topsail and a huge 
main-staysail. 

Somewhat to his surprise, Breeze now found himself 
the sole occupant of the deck. The skipper and half the 
crew were eating their supper in the forecastle, while the 
others were in the cabin, sleeping, reading, and keeping 
warm. On account of the cold, they had drawn the slide 
over the companion-way. 

It was the first time the young sailor had been left in 
sole charge of the vessel, and he realized the responsibility 
of his position. Still, owing to his father’s teachings and 
careful training, he felt quite competent to manage her, 
so long as no especial danger threatened. He also com- 


A Sudden Disaster. 


57 


forted himself with the thought that there was not the 
slightest chance of anything happening in the short time 
before he should be relieved. 

While thus thinking, and at the same time keeping a 
sharp watch of the sails, the compass, and the dog-vane 
that, fluttering from the mainmast-head, denoted the di- 
rection of the wind, he was startled by a curious hum- 
ming sound in the air above him. It was a weird, uncan- 
ny sound, unlike anything he had ever before heard, and 
it filled him with a strange fear. He was just about to 
call the men in the cabin, when suddenly there came a 
roar and a shriek above his head. Then the little circular 
tornado, directly in whose track the unfortunate Curlew 
happened to be, struck her such a terrible blow that she 
was powerless to resist it. In an instant she was knocked 
down and thrown on her beam ends. The white sails, 
that had soared aloft so gracefully, and offered so tempt- 
ing a mark for the spinning whirlwind, now lay flat in 
the water, heavily soaking and holding the schooner down. 

Breeze had spun the wheel with all his might, and 
thrown the helm hard down, in the hope of bringing her 
up into the wind ; but the blow had been too sudden and 
too heavy. The rudder no longer controlled her, and she 
lay as helpless as though waterlogged, held down by that 
terrible dragging weight of top-hamper. 


58 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

As she went over, one man had struggled up from the 
forecastle and been instantly buried in the sea beneath 
the heavy canvas of the foresail. Breeze knew that the 
reason no more came was that a torrent of water was 
rushing with resistless force through the narrow opening. 
Beneath him he could hear the smothered cries and strug- 
gles of the prisoners in the cabin. In a few minutes more 
the vessel would sink, and all within her would be miser- 
ably drowned. Their only hope was in him. What could 
he do ? What could he do ? 

Standing on the weather side of the wheel when the 
schooner was struck, he had saved himself from going 
overboard by clinging to it. How he scrambled to the 
upper side of the house, and holding on to the weather- 
rail, began to hack desperately at the lanyards of the 
main rigging with his sheath-knife. If only the masts 
would break off and relieve the vessel of that awful 
weight of soaked canvas, she might right herself. 

One after another the lanyards snap like strained harp- 
strings. There! the rigging has gone and the mast 
cracks. How for the fore rigging! How he reached it 
the boy never knew ; in fact he afterwards had very little 
recollection of what he did amid the terrible excitement 
of those two minutes ; but he did reach and cut it. 

Then there came a rending of wood as the tough masts 


A Sudden Disaster . 


59 


broke off. Then slowly, very slowly, the vessel righted 
herself, and once more rode on an even keel, though hah 
full of w r ater, and as sad a looking wreck as ever floated. 

As she righted, the after companion-way was burst open 
by the mighty effort of those beneath the slide, and they 
rushed out gasping for breath and with glaring eyes. 
They had been very nearly suffocated by steam and gas 
generated by the water pouring down the funnel on the 
glowing coals in the cabin stove. 

From the forecastle also emerged, one by one, the half- 
drowned figures of those who had been imprisoned in it. 
But for the prompt action of the brave boy on deck, they 
would never have left its flooded recesses. One of their 
number was missing, and he was the man whose place 
at .the wheel Breeze had taken, and who had forced his 
way out as the vessel capsized, only to be drowned be- 
neath the canvas of the foresail. He would be sincerely 
mourned later, but there was no time to think of him 
now. The others were still in too imminent peril of los- 
ing their own lives. 

As the stricken craft rolled like a log in the sea-way, 
she pounded heavily against the masts and spars, which, 
still attached to her by the lee rigging and head -stays, 
floated close alongside. The danger that her planking 
might thus be crushed in was so great that, in spite of his 
5 


60 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

own wretched condition, Captain Coffin saw it the mo- 
ment he gained the deck. Calling upon the others to fol- 
low his example, he drew his knife and began to cut 
away the tangle of cordage that bound the vessel to this 
new enemy. 

When it was finally cleared, the seine-boat, which was 
still dragging astern, was pulled up, and half the crew 
went in it to tow the mass of spars and canvas clear of 
the schooner, and save such of the sails as they could. 
The rest began to labor at the pumps, and to rig a jury- 
mast on which they might spread such sail as would 
carry her into port. The main-mast had snapped off so 
close to the deck as to leave nothing to which they might 
fasten a jury-spar ; but of the foremast a stump some six 
feet high remained, and with this they hoped to accom- 
plish their purpose. 

While the skipper, Breeze, and two others were thus 
engaged, those at the pumps suddenly called out that the 
water was gaining on them, and that the vessel was about 
to founder. 

It was only too true; the stanch little schooner had 
evidently made her last voyage, and would never again 
sail into Gloucester harbor. In fact, the water was gain- 
ing so rapidly that it was within a foot or two of her 
deck> and there was no time to lose in leaving her. Those 


A Sudden Disaster . 61 

in the seine-boat were fortunately within easy hail, and 
dropping their work, they quickly had it alongside. 

There was no need of seeking an explanation of the 
rapid inflow of water. It was only too plain that gaping 
seams had been opened by the great strain of her masts 
and sails while the schooner lay on her beam ends. It 
was more than probable, also, that butts had been started 
here and there by the jagged ends of the heavy spars as 
they lay in the water pounding and grinding against her 
sides. 

Nothing could be saved. There was barely time for 
all hands to tumble into the seine-boat and pull it to a 
safe distance from the fast-sinking vessel. Then they lay 
on their oars and watched her. She seemed like some 
live thing, aware of the fate about to overtake her, and 
struggling pitifully against it. The swash of the water 
in her cabin sounded like sobs, and the faces of the men 
who watched her, usually so bright and merry, were as 
sad as though they watched at the bedside of a dying 
friend. 

The sun was setting red and angry in a mass of black 
clouds that came rolling up out of the west as she took 
the final plunge, and diving bows first, disappeared for- 
ever, leaving her crew silent, motionless, and awe-stricken 
at the catastrophe that had thus overtaken them. 


62 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

The skipper was the first to break the silence, and in a 
tone of forced cheerfulness he said, “Well, boys, the old 
Curlew has gone where all good crafts go, sooner or later, 
and we must be thankful she hasn’t taken us along with 
her. I honestly believe we should all have shared her 
fate, and that of poor Bod Mason, if it had not been for 
this brave lad and the quick wit that taught him to do 
exactly the right thing at the right moment. I have not 
the slightest doubt that we owe our lives to Breeze 
McCloud, and right here I want to thank him, and to 
pay my respects to the memory of the brave man who 
brought him up to act as a true sailor should in such an 
emergency.” 

These were grateful words to poor Breeze, who was 
feeling the loss of his shipmate, and of the schooner, more 
keenly than any of his companions, and fearing that per- 
haps they would blame him for what had happened. He 
had given Captain Coffin a hurried account of the dis- 
aster, and of how he had cut away the masts ; but the 
skipper had found no time then to say what he thought 
of the course the boy had pursued. 

How, one by one, the men reached forward to shake 
hands with him, and had it not been for the thought of 
the drowned man, he would, in spite of their miserable sit- 
uation, have felt as light-hearted as though already in port. 


A Sudden Disaster. 


63 

There were neither water nor provisions in the boat, 
they had no mast, sail, nor compass. Most of them were 
wet through, and already chilled to the bone by the cold 
wind, which was rising, and promised to freshen into a 
gale before midnight. Breeze was the only one who was 
dry and had his oil-skins on, and but for his hunger he 
would have been comparatively comfortable. 

They stopped near the floating wreckage of spars and 
sails long enough to obtain the schooner’s main-topsail, 
and the foregaff which they hoped to rig up as a mast in 
the boat. They also cut away a small lot of the lighter 
cordage. Then they headed their craft to the westward, 
and started to pull for the distant land. The skipper said 
they were not more than fifty miles from the coast, and 
if the sea did not get too rough, they ought to make it by 
noon of the next day. 

They were divided into two watches, and while half of 
them rowed, the rest huddled together as close as possible 
in the bottom of the boat for warmth. 

It was nearly midnight, the wind was blowing a gale 
dead against them, and they seemed to be making no 
progress whatever. Breeze, unable to sleep, was sitting 
up gazing out into the blackness behind them. Suddenly, 
as the boat rose on the crest of a great wave, he sprang 
to his feet and cried, “ A light ! I see a light !” 


64 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 


CHAPTER V. 


SAVED BY ELECTRICITY. 


HE joyful cry of a light at once put new life and 



^ hope into the hearts of the hungry, drenched, and 
shivering occupants of the seine-boat. Those who had 
huddled together under the wet canvas of the top-sail in 
the vain effort to keep warm, as well as those who were 
pulling hopelessly and wearily at the oars, gazed eagerly 
in the direction indicated by Breeze. Yes, there it was, 
faint and yellow in the distance, apparently that of some 
vessel approaching them from the southward. They 
could see it as their boat rose on the crests of the great 
billows, though it was lost again when they sank into the 
black hollows between them. 

Soon they were able to distinguish a second yellow 
light, lower than the other, and by the position of these 
they knew that the approaching vessel was a steamer, 
and a large one at that. Then her red and green side- 
lights came into view. They watched anxiously to see 
which of these would disappear first, in order to deter- 


Saved by Electricity . 65 

mine on which side of them she was going to pass. If 
the red light should be lost to view, then they would 
know she was passing to windward of them. In that 
case there would not be the slightest chance of any cries 
they could utter reaching her, and she would go on her 
way unconscious of their presence. If the green light 
should disappear, it would be a sign that she was about 
to pass to leeward. In that case there was a possibility 
that their shouts, borne down the gale, might attract the 
attention of the watch on her deck. Still, she might not 
stop even then, and it was an almost unheard-of thing for 
a boat to be picked up at sea in the darkness of midnight, 
amid the noise and tumult of a gale. They fully under- 
stood their position, but, slight as their chance was, they 
watched for it hopefully. 

All at once, as they were lifted from a deep, watery 
hollow, and looked for the lights, they gave utterance to 
exclamations of dismay. They could still see the green 
light and the two yellow lights, but the red one was no 
longer visible. 

“ ’Tain’t no use. She’s going to windward of us mut- 
tered one of the men, at once giving up all hope, and 
again lying down in the bottom of the boat. “ Luck’s 
against us, and we might as well reckon on help from the 
old Curlew as from that craft.” 


66 D ory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

Most of the others evidently thought as he did, and 
they turned their eyes resolutely away from the lights, as 
though determined to be no longer tantalized by them. 
But Breeze could not give up so easily, and he still 
watched the lights whenever a lifting wave afforded him 
an opportunity of seeing them. 

What! Can it be? Or are his eyes deceiving him? 
No. It certainly is the red light again, now much more 
distinct than before. The steamer has altered her course 
and is heading directly for them. The men are filled 
with new life at the boy’s exultant cry announcing his 
discovery. They spring up and gaze incredulously. It is 
true, and both lights are now to be plainly seen, not more 
than half a mile away and bearing directly towards them. 
Now they fear that she may run them down, and begin 
to pull to windward, so as to give her a clear berth. At 
last she is close upon them, and the green light disap- 
pears, while the red shows clear and steady. 

“Now for a shout, men ! All together as I give the 
word. One ! two ! three !” commands the skipper. 

It is a wild, desperate cry that startles the lookout on 
the forward deck of the steamer from the half reverie 
into w T hich he has fallen. 

Again it comes to his ears, and again, borne on the 
wings of the gale across the angry waters ; and now it is 


Saved by Electricity . 67 

heard by the steamer’s captain, who has not left the pilot- 
house that night. 

A gong clangs down among the engines, and a hoarse 
order is shouted to the engineer through the speaking- 
tube. The great screw under the steamer’s stern stops 
for a moment, and then churns the water violently as its 
motion is reversed and it revolves rapidly backward. 

“ See if you can pick them up with the electric,” is the 
captain’s order to the second officer, who has just ap- 
peared on deck. At the same instant a dazzling flash of 
white light darts forth from the steamer’s bow, and cuts 
a gleaming path- way between two solid walls of blackness 
above the raging waters. 

The second officer seizes the handles at the back of the 
great lamp, and the broad band of light is slowly swept 
round to the direction from which the cries have come. 
In another moment it flashes full in the white faces of 
Breeze McCloud and his companions, sitting in their seine- 
boat not more than a hundred yards away. The wonder- 
ful eye of the search-light has discovered them, and they 
cover theirs with their hands, or turn away from the un- 
bearable radiance. 

“ Pull under our lee,” shouts the captain of the steamer 
through a speaking-trumpet, “ and we’ll try and get you 
aboard,” 


68 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

It was a difficult task, for the ship rolled so deeply that 
it would have been unsafe to open her side -ports, and 
they must be taken* aboard over the rail. As the seine- 
boat lay alongside, it was at one moment on a level with 
the steamer’s deck, and the next so far below it that her 
wet side rose like a black wall high above them. Noth- 
ing could be done until she was turned, so as to lie head 
to the wind. Then, one by one, the wrecked men caught 
the ropes flung to them, fastened them under their arms, 
and were hauled up to the steamer’s deck, where they 
were received and pulled on board by the stout arms 
eagerly out-stretched to aid them. Some of them were 
buried beneath the huge waves that sprang after them 
as though furious at being thus robbed of their expected 
prey and still determined to clutch it. Others were 
bruised by being swung violently against the iron side 
of the steamer. At last all of them were safely rescued, 
and, with the seine-boat towing by a long line astern, the 
great steamer was again headed on her course. 

Was there ever anything so delicious as the hot coffee 
at once served to them, or so welcome as the plentiful 
meal that awaited them in the steamer’s mess-room, after 
they hrid got into the dry clothes furnished by her crew ? 
Breeze did not think there was. And when, soon after- 
wards, he found himself in a comfortable bunk, under 


IN ANOTHER MOMENT IT FLASHES FULL IN THE WniTE FACES OF BREEZE MoCLOUD AND HIS 

COMPANIONS. 









. 

















































Saved by Electricity . 69 

warm blankets, and dropping to sleep, he felt that he was 
one of the most fortunate and marvellously cared for 
boys in the world. 

The steamer that thus furnished the weary fishermen 
with shelter, safety, and all the comforts of a sailor’s fife 
was one of a line plying between Boston and a southern 
city, from which she was now bound. Her captain was 
one of those noble sailors who are never so happy as 
when rescuing other toilers of the sea from its perils. He 
told Captain Coffin that, without any definite reason, he 
had felt impelled to alter his ship’s course half a point to 
the eastward shortly before their cries had been heard. 
It was this change of direction that had brought the red 
light once more into view. 

Before morning the gale had so increased in fury that 
it was not probable their light craft could have lived 
through it had they not been picked up when they were. 
As it was, the seine-boat, while towing behind the steam- 
er, was struck soon after daylight by a great sea that cap- 
sized it. The next crushed it like an egg-shell, and the 
broken wreck was cut adrift. 

Twenty-four hours later they entered Boston harbor, 
and the crew of the lost Curlew , after expressing their 
heart-felt thanks to the captain, passengers, and crew of 
the steamer, who had done everything in their power to 


70 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

make them comfortable, left her. They made their way 
at once to the market slip devoted to the use of fishing 
vessels, where they were sure of finding friends and fel- 
low-townsmen. 

While walking slowly along the wharf, and looking 
wistfully over the many fishing vessels crowded into the 
basin, in search of a familiar face, Breeze was slapped on 
the shoulder, and a well-known voice exclaimed, 

“ Yy, Breeza, ma boy! how you vas? Yere you come 
from, eh V 9 

Turning, he saw the smiling face of old Mateo, the 
Portuguese cook who, on board the Sea Robin , had fed 
him with milk from the “ lit tin cow ” when he was a 
baby. The old cook had always retained a warm affec- 
tion for the boy whom he had thus cared for in his help- 
lessness, and had never returned to Gloucester without 
visiting him and bringing him some present. Now to 
see him seemed to Breeze almost like a glimpse of home. 

Mateo, who, in spite of his years, was still hale and 
hearty, and one of the best cooks to be found in the fish- 
ing fleet, would listen to nothing where they stood. He 
insisted upon dragging Breeze aboard a new and hand- 
some schooner named the Albatross , in which he had 
shipped for a cruise to the George’s. She had left Glouces- 
ter the day before, and run up to Boston, where her skip 


Saved by Electricity. 71 

per had some business to attend to. Now she was to sail 
again within an hour. 

Pulling his young friend down into the forecastle, and 
seating him before the mess-table, Mateo exclaimed, “ Yell, 
Breeza, you hongry, eh ?” 

To him eating was the most important business of life, 
and until Breeze had assured him that he had just finished 
one breakfast, and had no room for another mouthful, he 
would listen to nothing else. His mind being set at rest 
on this point, Mateo asked, 

“Yell, you not hongry, ma boy, ver is ze C^loo?” 

“ Gone to the bottom,” answered Breeze, “ and poor 
Rod Mason has gone with her.” 

“ Y at you say ? ze C’loo loss, and Rod Mason drowned ? 
Oh, ze holy feesh ! an his bruzzer Bill here, on ze ’ Ba - 
tross /” 

It was indeed so ; the only brother of the drowned man 
had shipped in the Albatross the day before. When he 
heard the sad news brought by Breeze, he declared he 
must return at once to Gloucester, and make arrange- 
ments for the future of his brother’s family. He would 
not even wait for the skipper’s return, but, collecting 
his dunnage, hurried away to catch the first train for 
home. 

The rest of the crew, most of whom knew him, were 


72 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

intensely interested in what Breeze had to tell them of 
the loss of the Curlew and the rescue of her crew. They 
were still plying him with questions when the skipper of 
the Albatross returned. He, like Mateo, had been one of 
the Sea RobirCs crew upon the memorable occasion when 
Breeze had come to her, and now he gave the lad a hearty 
welcome. When he learned of William Mason’s desertion 
he was somewhat annoyed, but in a moment his face 
cleared and he said, 

“ Why won’t you come with us in his place, Breeze ? 
You shall go as an A1 hand, have a full share of the 
catch, and we are not likely to be out more than a couple 
of weeks anyhow. She’s a good vessel, and you are al- 
ways such a lucky chap that you’ll be more than welcome 
aboard of her.” 

“ Yes, Breeza, come ’long,” urged the cook. “ Ole Mateo 
feeda you till you git fat like dog-feesh. Joe-flog, sea- 
pie, hatch, plenty good t’ings.” 

Breeze laughed at the earnestness of the old man and 
the inducements he held out, but said, “ If I only' could go 
home and see mother for a little while first, I’d go in a 
minute. I’d have to get a new outfit too ; the only thing 
I saved from the Curlew is this oil suit.” 

“ We’ll wait an hour for you to write to your mother 
and tell her just how things stand. That’ll give you time 


Saved by Electricity . 73 

to get an outfit in, too. I guess you’d better come along,” 
urged the skipper. 

“Outfeet!” cried Mateo, eagerly. “Vat you want? 
Pea jack, boot a, gole vatch an’ chain, eberyting vat you 
vill hab me getta him.” 

So it was finally settled, and an hour later, having writ- 
ten a loving letter home, and been provided, through the 
old cook s generosity, with an outfit of clothes quite as 
good as the one he had lost, Breeze found himself sail- 
ing out c j Boston harbor in the good schooner Albatross , 
bound foi the George’s Bank. Certainly, nothing had been 
further from his mind than this, when he had entered the 
same harbor a few hours before; but he was rapidly 
learning that nothing is so likely to happen in this life as 
those things we least expect. 

St. George’s Bank, which furnishes the finest cod and hali- 
but found on the American coast, lies about ninety-five 
miles due east from Highland light on Cape Cod. Its 
waters are fished all through the year by a large fleet of 
vessels from Hew England ports, but its supply continues 
apparently undiminished. It lies in a dangerous part of 
the ocean, for it is swept by the current of the Gulf 
Stream, is subject to fearful storms and dense fogs, and is 
crossed by all the transatlantic lines of steamers. 

Although it is so near at hand, and though fishing was 
6 


74 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

one of the earliest industries followed by the New England 
settlers, it was not until about 1836 that trips to George’s 
became a regular feature of the business. The bank was 
known to exist, and fish were known to be plenty on it, 
long before, but the fishermen were afraid of it. This 
fear was owing to the belief among them that the cur- 
rent, always sweeping across it, was strong enough to drag 
under and sink any vessel that should anchor within its 
influence. 

The first three fishing vessels that visited the dreaded 
bank kept close together, and their crews fished as they 
drifted about. Finally, one of the skippers, who was re- 
garded as a perfect dare-devil for proposing such a thing, 
said he was going to anchor and take his chances. Sev- 
eral of his crew were so frightened that they begged to be 
put aboard the other vessels, whose skippers were not so 
venturesome. They were allowed to go, and volunteers 
were called for from the other crews to aid this bold 
skipper in his desperate venture. When enough brave 
fellows had gone on board to be able to get the anchor 
up quickly in case of trouble, it was let go, the cable 
spun out, was checked, the anchor held, and the schooner 
rode to it as easily and quietly as though in Gloucester 
harbor. 

Now occurred the most amusing part of this bold 6x- 


75 


Saved by Electricity . 

periment. The swift current quickly bore the other two 
vessels away from the anchored craft, but those on board 
the latter imagined that they were moving and leaving 
their friends behind. They began to heave desperate- 
ly on their cable, got their anchor up, and started back 
in pursuit of their companions. When they were once 
more united, all hands were fully satisfied with their ex- 
ploit; and though they had taken but a few quintals* 
of fish they sailed back to Gloucester filled with pride 
because one of their number had dared drop an anchor 
on George’s. 

In those days, and until 1846, fishing vessels did not 
carry ice in which to pack their catch and bring it fresh 
into market. In place of this, many of them were made 
into what are known as “ smacks ” b}^ having tight com- 
partments built in their hold amidships, and filled with 
sea -water from auger -holes bored through the vessel’s 
bottom. 

The greatest depth of water on George’s is 212 fath- 
oms^ or 1272 feet, nearly a quarter of a mile. The average 
depth for fishing is sixty fathoms, though halibut are often 
taken in water two hundred fathoms deep. It is, of course, 
tiresome work to drag these great fish to the surface from 


A hundred pounds weight. 


f A fathom is six feet. 


7 6 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

such great depths, and they are never sought for there if 
they can be found in shoaler water. 

It is no rare thing to find a hundred fishing vessels at 
anchor at one time on George’s during any month of 
the year, and it was to join this fleet that the Albatross 
was now making her way swiftly around the point of 
Cape Cod. She was fitted out as a hand-liner — that is, 
her crew would fish with hand-lines over her sides — and 
she had a quantity of frozen herring stowed with the ice 
in her hold to be used as bait. 

They reached the bank and caught sight of the anch- 
ored fleet early the following morning after leaving Bos- 
ton. As they slipped along past one after another of 
the vessels already at work, they could see their crews 
hauling in their lines and tossing fish over the rail as fast 
as their arms could move. It seemed curious to Breeze 
that this busy work should always stop as soon as the 
Albatross drifted near any of the others. He asked why 
it was, and was told that they were afraid the new-com- 
ers would notice their good luck and anchor near them, 
which they did not wish to have them do. 

As the Albatross moved slowly across the bank, sound- 
ings were taken, and the skipper kept a baited hook down. 
At last, in fifty fathoms of water he got a strong bite, 
and at once ordered the anchor to be dropped. Then the 


77 


Saved by Electricity . 

sails were snugly furled and the riding-sail set. This is 
a small triangular hit of canvas bent to the main-mast, and 
is used to hold the vessel’s head to the wind. 

Now baskets of bait were got up, lines were overhauled, 
and soon every man on board had one or two over the 
side. They were allowed to run out until their leaden 
sinkers touched, when they were drawn up so that the 
hooks, that hung a fathom below them, were raised a few 
feet above the bottom. 

There was an intense eagerness to bring up the first 
fish, and each man kept an eye on his neighbor’s line as 
well as on his own, to see if he were to be the lucky man. 
At last a shout announced a bite, and all turned to see 
Breeze McCloud tug away at sometliing so tremendously 
heavy that it seemed to him he must be lifting a large 
piece of the bottom of the ocean. 


yS Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE GALE ON GEORGE’S. 


OOK out, Breeze ! Let him run a bit !” shouted the 



skipper. “ Don’t try to snub him yet, or he’ll snap 
your line like a thread.” 

Whish-hiss-s-s goes the stout line as the fish at the 
other end takes a downward plunge. Now he runs up- 
ward, and the slack is hastily gathered in. “ There, he is 
off again ! My, what a rush ! There is evidently some 
serious work on hand here,” said the skipper, as he went 
to the young fisherman’s assistance. It took fifteen min- 
utes of steady, patient, and skilful work to tire the pow- 
erful fish. During this time general attention was direct- 
ed to the struggle, and the men almost neglected their 
own lines in their curiosity to see what sort ^ of a creature 
Breeze had hooked. 

Finally the exhausted fish gave up the fight and allowed 
itself to be drawn to the surface. Mow was seen the 
great white head of a halibut, that looked to Breeze, who 
had never before caught a fish of this kind, large enough 

o ' O o 


79 


The Gale on George s . 

to be a whale. Two men with gaffs* in their hands 
sprang to his assistance, but the .fish was so huge that not 
until two more had also got gaffs into him was he lifted 
from the water and got on deck. Here he was despatched 
by a few smart taps on the head from the “ halibut killer,” 
which is a short wooden club kept ready for this especial 
purpose. 

Breeze was wild with delight over his capture, while the 
whole crew were more or less excited, as well they might 
be, for no such fish had been taken from George’s by 
any one else that season. It weighed three hundred and 
twenty-six pounds, and though larger halibut than this 
have been caught, they are few and far between. One of 
the men said that he was worth at least twenty dollars, 
and all admitted that he would create a sensation when 
they took him into port. 

“ Put your mark on him, Breeze,” said the skipper, “ so 
that you will be able to pick him out when we get home. 
He might get lost, you know, among the really big ones 
that the rest of us are going to catch.” 

The boy laughed, but felt very proud of his first fish, 
as with his sharp sheath-knife he cut a rude B like this, B, 


* Gaffs are iron hooks securely fastened to strong wooden handles 
four or five feet long. 


So Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

in the thick skin on its head, and inscribed the same mark 
near its tail. 

Old Mateo was as delighted at the success of his pro- 
tege as the boy himself, and in honor of the event 
brought him a cup of hot coffee and an extra nice Joe- 
flogger spread with butter and sugar. 

“ Me tell ’em so ven you lit babee, an’ eat ze harda tack. 
Me tell ’em you catch ze feesh bimeby plentee, plentee ! 
Now zey find out, eh?” he exclaimed, in a tone of self- 
satisfied pride. It was as much as to say that if they 
would only bring all the babies to him, he could tell 
whether they would make successful fishermen or not. 
The men laughed at him, and made many jokes concern- 
ing his wisdom ; but he only laughed back good-naturedly, 
and shook his head at them as he again disappeared in 
the depths of his own domain. 

For the rest of the day the fishing went on so merrily, 
and halibut and cod were piled up on deck so rapidly, 
that nobody found time to stop for dinner ; but snatched 
hurried mouthfuls of food as they tended their lines. It 
was lively and exciting work ; but when it was time to 
knock off, and begin to clear and pack the day’s catch, 
Breeze, for one, found himself aching in every joint, while 
his hands were raw and water-soaked from handling the 
hard, wet lines. 


8 1 


The Gale on George's. 

He would have gladly turned in at once, but the fish 
must be cleaned first, and after that it was his turn to 
stand a two hours’ watch on deck. Thus it was late in 
the evening before the exhausted lad tumbled into his 
bunk, where he dreamed of monstrous fish with twenty- 
dollar gold-pieces in their mouths, that turned into Joe- 
floggers as he reached for them. 

The fishing was good for three days longer, and all 
hands were light-hearted and happy over their success. 
Songs and jokes were heard on all sides, and the yarns 
told at night in the cabin were all of big fares and quick 
trips to the Banks. It had been a stormy winter, and 
March had come in like an angry, roaring lion ; but now 
il seemed to be anxious to prove the truth of the old say- 
ing, and to be about to go out like the meekest of lambs. 
Three days more of such luck as they had had would pull 
up their anchor and see them homeward bound. But 
March is a fickle month. 

The fourth day broke cloudy and threatening. The 
sky was gray and the air was filled with a penetrating 
chill. The schooner rode uneasily, straining and surging 
at her cable in the heavy swell that rolled in from the 
eastward. The previous day had been what old sailors 
would call “ a weather-breeder,” with the wind light and 
puffy from the south-west. The mercury in the barom- 


82 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

eter had stood about 30.7, which indicated a change, and 
something to be expected from off the sea. 

As the day wore on there was a feeling of snow in the 
atmosphere, and the barometer fell steadily. The fish 
continued to bite eagerly, and every man did his best to 
swell the sum total of his catch while he had the chance. 
The luck of the Albatross had been noticed, and several 
other vessels were anchored near her, both ahead and 
astern. 

By noon angry spurts of snow were driving in the faces 
of her crew, the wind was moaning drearily through the 
rigging, and an occasional dash of spray wet the deck. 
About this time all hands were ordered to “knock off” 
fishing, dress the morning’s catch, stow all light articles 
below, and “snug ship.” Twenty more fathoms of cable 
were paid out. The foresail was loosed and three reefs 
were tied in it, so that it might be ready for instant use 
in case the vessel broke adrift. Then it was again furled, 
and securely tied. 

The storm came on rapidly after that, until at four 
o’clock, when supper was served, the schooner was pitch- 
ing furiously, and bringing up with vicious jerks on its 
straining cable. It was already quite dark, and the snow 
drove in horizontal lines, tingling against a bare face 
like cuts from a whip-lash. The wind howled through 


The Gale on George s. 83 

the taut rigging, and the spray, torn from the crests of 
the racing seas, was blown in blinding sheets above the 
slippery decks. 

Breeze had never experienced anything like this. To 
him it was already a frightful gale, and, as he almost 
pitched down the forward companion-ladder in answer 
to the supper call, he was surprised to find how dalmly 
the men were taking it. In spite of the tumult on 
deck, the creaking and groaning of the vessel’s timbers, 
and her mad pitching, several of them were seated at 
the mess-table eating as unconcernedly as though noth- 
ing unusual were happening. Another lay in his bunk, 
smoking and exchanging jokes with those who were 
eating. 

After the storm-swept deck, the forecastle seemed warm, 
light, and cheerful. As Breeze sat down to the table, 
from which, in spite of the storm-racks, the dishes were 
every now and then flung to the floor, he wondered that 
he had never before noticed what a cosey and comfortable 
place it was. 

“Vel, Breeza!” shouted old Mateo, whose entire ener- 
gies were devoted to keeping the coffee-pot from sliding 
off the stove. “ How you lak him ? Pret good, eh ?” 

u I lak him very much better down here tlmn I do on 
deck,” answered the boy between his mouthfuls of hot 


84 Dorymotes : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

coffee and biscuit. “But, I say, Mateo, don’t you call 
this a pretty stiff sort of a gale ?” 

“ No,” replied the old cook, scornfully ; “ zis only one-a 
lit Georgy shake-up. For ze gale you mus’ go to ze Gran’ 
Bank. Ah, zat ze place !” 

With this the others chimed in, and began to tell of 
their experiences in real gales, to which this one was but 
a March zephyr. 

For all this, a little later, when the crew were gathered 
in the cabin, where, around the little red-hot stove, wet 
clothing and boots were sending up clouds of steam, the 
skipper, after looking out of the companion-way, said, 

“ Boys, we are in for a regular ‘ rip-snorter.’ I never 
saw a nastier night. You’d better get a nap if you can 
now, for after midnight there won’t be any chance for 
sleep aboard this craft. I want the watch on deck to 
keep the sharpest kind of a lookout, and to call me the 
moment a light is seen in any direction.” 

The great danger of the night lay either in getting 
adrift, through the parting of their cable or the dragging 
of their anchor, and rushing into collision with some 
anchored vessel, or in being run down. In either case 
the result would probably be the almost instant death of 
all on board. 

Following the skipper’s advice, Breeze crept into his 


The Gale on George's . 85 

bunk for a nap, but for a long time found it impossible 
to sleep. The violence of the pitching and the roar of 
the gale seemed to increase with each moment, and it was 
only by the strongest effort of will that he could restrain 
himself from springing up and rushing on deck. At last 
he did sleep, but was only aware of it when a dash of icy 
water in his face awakened him. Forgetting where he 
was, he sprang up, and struck his head violently against 
the low ceiling above him. 

A great sea of solid water had broken over the schoon- 
er’s bows, and swept aft in such a volume that it must 
have flooded the cabin had not the skipper, who stood in 
the companion-way, pulled the slide. As it was, about a 
bucketful had made its way in, and a portion of it had 
fallen on Breeze. 

Scrambling from the bunk, he found his companions 
clad in their oil-skins and prepared to hurry on deck at 
the first notice that their presence was needed. Several 
of them were picking themselves up from the floor, to 
which they had been flung by the shock of the big wave, 
and one was lamenting a broken pipe. They were much 
more sober now than at supper-time, and their conversa- 
tion, which was entirely of wreck and disaster, was not 
calculated to fill the boy with cheerful thoughts. Glan- 
cing at the clock, he saw that it was past midnight, and 


86 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

the skipper’s warning that there would be no sleep for 
them after that hour flashed into his mind. 

Following the example of the others, he pulled on his 
oil-skins, and sat down to wait, he knew not what for. A 
few minutes later the summons came. It was an unin- 
telligible cry from the watch on deck, but its meaning 
was clear to the practised ears of those below, and as the 
skipper sprang up the steps, the others followed. 

When Breeze reached the deck and felt the full force 
of the blast, it seemed to drive the breath from his body. 
The wind was shrieking through the strained rigging like 
a hundred steam-whistles. The snow had turned into fine 
particles of ice that pricked like needles. The billows 
hissed and seethed as, with streaming manes of glistening 
white, they galloped past the quivering vessel. Now she 
was poised on the crest of a gigantic wave, and the next 
instant buried in a yawning depth, beneath a smother of 
broken waters that leaped high up on her masts. 

By the rays of the riding-light, that still burned steadily 
just abaft the foremast, Breeze could make out the sev- 
eral members of the crew clinging to whatever seemed to 
promise the greatest safety, the fife-rail, halyards, or rig- 
ging. Away forward, beside the groaning windlass, was 
a figure which he knew to be that of the skipper, crouch 
ing, axe in hand, ready to cut the cable. 


The Gale on George's . 87 

All this had been taken in at one glance, the next re- 
vealed the cause of the outcry from the watch on deck, 
A light dead ahead was bearing swiftly down upon them. 
It was that of a fishing schooner torn from her anchorage, 
and being hurled by the storm giant, like a bolt of de- 
struction, through the helpless fleet. 

During the fearful suspense of the next minute the boy 
did not breathe, and his very heart seemed to cease its 
beating. Twice the gleaming axe in the skipper’s hand 
, was raised to strike. Each time he thought of the vessels 
anchored astern of the Albatross , upon which she must 
drive in turn if cut adrift, and the blow was withheld. 

How the threatening light rose high above them, and 
then it swooped down and rushed past so close that they 
could almost have sprung aboard the drifting schooner. 
They caught a momentary glimpse of white faces, heard 
one wild cry, and felt the dragging of the broken cable 
as it was drawn across their own. Then all was again 
swallowed up in the furious blackness astern, and for 
them that danger was past. 

The night was bitterly cold, but the first sensation of 
which Breeze was aware, when it was all over, was that 
of the profuse perspiration in which he was bathed. 

There being no longer any need of their presence on 
deck, the members of the crew, after a fresh watch was 


9 


88 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

set, again sought the shelter of the cabin. Here Breeze 
was advised to try and get some more sleep, as it would 
be his turn to go on watch at four o’clock. He lay down, 
but felt as though he should never sleep again; for he 
could not close his eyes without seeing, once more, the 
drifting phantom of destruction that had just swept past 
them. He started fearfully at each lurch of the reeling 
vessel, and fancied that he heard cries in the shriek of the 
blast overhead. Although he dreaded t<? go on deck, it 
seemed as though he should prefer it to remaining in the 
cabin, and it was a relief when he was called to go on 
watch. 

The lad’s watchmate was much older than he, a weath- 
er-beaten sailor who had witnessed a hundred such gales, 
and felt that so long as the cable held, there was not much 
to fear. He helped Breeze up on the foregaff, where he 
would escape the worst of the great seas that continually 
broke over the schooner’s bows, sweeping her from stem 
to stern, and bade him keep a sharp lookout from there. 

At last, faint and uncertain, the prayed -for, long-de- 
ferred, and anxiously awaited light of day began to creep 
over the wild scene, and the white foam-crests stretched 
away farther and farther. The snow ceased to fall, and 
there was some promise of a cessation of the gale. One 
of the first things they distinguished in the early light 


The Gale on Georges . 89 

was the huge dim form of a square-rigged vessel that, un- 
der bare poles, drove past them, less than a quarter of a 
mile away, and vanished almost as soon as she was seen. 
Nothing was said, for only a shout close to the ear could 
be heard amid the tumult ; but Breeze shuddered to think 
how powerless their little schooner would have been to 
resist that driving mass had they chanced to lie in its 
course. 

They next saw a schooner plunging at her anchor, a 
short distance ahead of them, and noted how she had 
dragged during the night, for they had seen her the day 
before, but then much farther away. Her anchors had 
only caught just in time to save both her and them, and 
again Breeze realized the narrowness of their escape from 
the night’s perils. 

As the daylight revealed her sad plight, they turned 
their attention to their own craft. The seas no longer 
broke over her so furiously as they had, but crushed bul- 
warks, and the deck swept clear of boat, gurry-kids, and 
everything not absolutely built into it told of their awful 
force. 

All at once Breeze, from his slight elevation, noted a 
commotion on the deck of the schooner ahead of them. 
The men on watch seemed to be heaving lines at some- 
thing in the water. It was evidently drifting past them, 
7 


90 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Ba?iks. 

and their lines plainly failed to reach it. They were mo- 
tioning, as though to attract his attention towards it, and 
the thought flashed into his mind that perhaps they had 
discovered a survivor of some wreck floating in the angry 
waters, and had tried unsuccessfully to save him. He 
told his companion of what he had seen, and they both 
watched eagerly in the hope that if it was indeed a man 
he might drift within their reach. They procured a cou- 
ple of long light lines, made one end fast, and coiled them 
carefully, in readiness to be flung at a moment’s notice. 

“ I see him !” cried Breeze at length. “ There, see ! off 
our port bow ; but he is going to drift clear of us.” 

It was the figure of a man, clad in oil-skins, the yellow 
gleam of which had caught the boy’s eye as they showed 
for a moment on the crest of a wave. 

As he came near they saw that he was apparently cling- 
ing to the bottom of an overturned dory. At the same 
time it was evident that he was going to drift far beyond 
their reach, and they doubted if their lines even could be 
made to reach him. They shouted again and again, but 
he gave no sign of hearing them. 

Breeze began to tear off his oil-skins, then his jacket 
and boots, and to knot the end of a line about his waist. 

“ What are you going to do 2 ” shouted his companion, 
* Hot try and swim to him 


you’re crazy, lad ! YOU can’t live a minute in such a sea. 























91 


The Gate on Georges. 

“ Yes, I am,” shouted Breeze, in reply. “ It would be a 
pity it the best swimmer in Gloucester should let a man 
drown before his eyes for want of trying to save him.” 

“But you’re crazy, lad! You can’t live a minute in 
such a sea !” and the man took hold of the boy’s arm to 
restrain him from the rash attempt. 

With a single violent wrench Breeze freed himself from 
the other’s grasp, and just as some of the crew, who had 
been attracted by the shouts on deck, came up from the 
cabin, he plunged headlong into the raging waters. 


92 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A STRUGGLE FOR A LIFE. 

T^OR half a minute Breeze was lost to the view of those 
-L who from the deck of the schooner watched anx- 
iously to see him emerge from his brave plunge. They 
gave a shout as he reappeared. He had only time to draw 
in a single breath of air before he was again buried be- 
neath a huge curling wave that, before it broke, towered 
many feet above his head. His comrades were just about 
to haul him back b}^ means of the line they were paying 
out, and the other end of which was knotted about his 
waist, when his head was once more seen above the sur- 
face. 

This time they were astonished to note what a distance 
he had gained, for being many feet under water had not 
prevented his swimming sturdily towards the object of 
his efforts. How how gallantly he dashed forward ! with 
what splendid overhand strokes he took advantage of the 
few moments of surface-swimming granted him before he 
was again swallowed up! He had won many a swimming- 


A Struggle for a Life . 93 

match in both smooth and storm -tossed waters about 
Gloucester. He had taken many a header through green 
walls of inrushing breakers, but never before had he swam 
as now ; never before had he struggled for the prize of a 
human life. 

When for the third time he emerged from the suffocat- 
ing waters, he saw the yellow-clad form, to gain which lie 
had fought so bravely, within a few feet of him. Witli 
one more desperate effort, for the line about his waist was 
now dragging him back almost irresistibly, he reached it, 
and grasped the stern becket of the overturned dory. 

Out-stretched upon its flat bottom, with both arms and " 
legs twined about the life-line,* lay the senseless form of 
a young man, apparently but little older than the brave 
swimmer who now tried to rouse him. It was impossi- 
ble to do so, and Breeze feared that he was dead. With- 
out casting loose the line from about his body, he gathered 
a bight in it, and made this fast to the becket of the dory. 
Then he waved his hand as a signal to those on board the 
schooner to pull in. 

The strain upon the light line was terrible, and in any 


* A fishing dory has a wooden plug in its bottom near the after end 
that can be drawn so as to allow water to run out. To the lower end of 
this, extending forward along the boat’s bottom to an iron ring, is ofteD 
fastened a life-line for use in case of a capsize. 


94 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

other hands but those of expert fishermen it would have 
parted a dozen times before its precious burden was 
drawn as close as was safe under the stern of the schoon- 
er. Then a second line was thrown to Breeze, who, nearly 
exhausted as he was, still found strength to secure it about 
the body of the senseless lad beside him. He could not, 
however, undo the clutch of the rigid fingers from the 
life-line, and for a moment began to despair, even within 
reach of rescue, of saving him for whom he had risked so 
much. But help was at hand, and it came as he least ex- 
pected it. 

From the schooner’s deck old Mateo had watched the 
brave struggles of his boy, as he called him, in an agony 
of apprehension. How, with senses quickened by affec- 
tion, he was the first to comprehend the difficulty. Just 
as Breeze was about to relax his efforts, feeling that he 
could do no more, the old cook’s heavy jack-knife, with the 
end of a fishing-line attached to the ring in its horn han- 
dle, came flying across the dory, and dropped into the 
water beyond it. 

Breeze secured it, opened it, and with a last effort cut 
both ends of the dory’s life-line, as well as the becket to 
which he had fastened himself. Then the knife dropped 
from his nerveless fingers, and, as the dory drifted away, 
two senseless figures were drawn through the wild waters 


A Struggle for a Life . <95 

to the plunging schooner. With a final effort for their 
destruction, a huge billow hurled itself bodily upon them, 
and the lines had to be slackened for a few moments, or 
they would have parted. The limp forms were buried 
deep beneath the green waters; but again they were 
drawn to the surface, and this time they came within 
reach of the eagerly out-stretched arms waiting to grasp 
them. 

The unknown lad was carried into the cabin; while 
Breeze, claimed by Mateo, was tenderly taken into the 
forecastle. There, while two men stripped and rubbed 
him, the old cook heated blankets, and prepared hot stim- 
ulants, wailing as he bustled about, “Oh, Breeza! ma 
boy, ma boy f You no-a die ; you must leeve !” 

It was half an hour before their efforts were rewarded 
by a faint sigh and a flush of returning color in the livid 
cheeks. Then the boy opened his eyes, and gazed about 
h im wonderingly for an instant. A few minutes later, 
wrapped in hot blankets, he fell asleep and was breathing 
regularly. 

Almost the same scene was taking place in the cabin, 
only there it was so long before the patient showed the 
least sign of life that some of those who worked over him 
were several times ready to give up in despair. They 
were only kept at it by the skipper, who exclaimed, 


96 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Great Scott, men ! it will be a shame if we cannot 
fetch him to, after that boy has nearly given his life to 
save him. I, for one, shall work over him from now till 
noon before I will give him up.” 

At last he, too, was brought back to the life from 
which he had so nearly departed, and by noon, when the 
sun came out, both patients were doing finely. Neither 
of them was allowed to leave his bunk until the next 
morning ; but they vrere kept warm, and encouraged to 
sleep as much as possible. In their exhausted condition 
this was easy to do. So with only one or two awaken- 
ings to take the light nourishment that Mateo prepared 
for them, by the aid of his never-failing “ lit tin cow,” 
they slept through the rest of the day and the whole of 
the night. 

The next morning they awoke, filled with the life and 
energy that always wait upon youth and a sound consti- 
tution, and almost inclined to believe their recent advent- 
ure to be but a troubled dream. Only a few bruises, and 
the marks about their bodies of the ropes by which they 
had been drawn aboard the schooner, remained as traces 
of what they had undergone. 

The sea had gone down so rapidly the day before that 
the crew of the Albatross had been able to resume their 
fishing by noon, and had had remarkably good-luck until 


97 


A Struggle for a Life \ 

night. By a mutual agreement, suggested by the man 
who had been watchmate with Breeze that morning, they 
devoted half an hour to their brave young comrade, and 
the entire catch of fish, made during that time, was cred- 
ited to him in the ship’s books. 

The next morning when Breeze came on deck he saw 
the skipper talking to a well-built young stranger, whose 
naturally ruddy face had not yet wholly recovered its 
color. For an instant he wondered who it could be, and 
where he had come from. Then it flashed across him 
that this was the person whom he had rescued from the 
sea; and, not knowing exactly what to do or say, he 
stood looking at him curiously. 

The young stranger noticing him, said something to 
the skipper, who turned quickly and exclaimed, 

“ Good-morning, Breeze ! Why, you are looking as fresh 
as a daisy. This is Mr. Wolfe Brady,” he added, indicat- 
ing the lad who stood beside him. “ Although you two 
have already been dorymates, he declares he has never 
seen you before, and I am certain you have never been 
introduced. Mr. Brady, Mr. McCloud.” 

In assuming this jesting tone the skipper hoped to put 
the young men at their ease, and relieve their first meet- 
ing of the embarrassment they might naturally be ex* 
pected to feel under the circumstances. 


98 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

There was a long, firm hand-clasp between the two 
who had so nearly met death together ; but for a moment 
neither of them spoke. Then Wolfe Brady said, 

“ They tell me you saved my life, and nearly lost your 
own in doing it. I can’t thank you, because I haven’t 
the gift ; but if ever the time comes when you can use it, 
I will offer my life to you as freely as you offered yours 
for me.” 

“ Thank you,” answered Breeze, simply. “ I am very 
glad I succeeded in reaching you ; but how did you hap- 
pen to be afloat on that dory f” 

“I hardly know myself. Yesterday morning I be- 
longed to the trawler Ibis of Boston. Just before day- 
light, while half the crew, and I among them, were on 
deck, we were run down by a large square-rigger scud- 
ding under bare poles. It was so dark that we did not 
see her until she was right on top of us, and then, though 
we cut the cable, it was too late. She struck us before 
those below could get on deck, and crushed the schooner 
down as though she were a herring-box. Then I’ve no 
knowledge of what happened to the others, or even to 
myself. I only know that I was under water such a long 
time that I wonder I did not stay there. When I came 
up something was floating close beside me, and I got hold 
of it. The rest is a blank. The next thing I knew, I was 


\ 



THERE WAS A LONG FIRM HAND CLASP BETWEEN THEM. 












99 


A Struggle for a Life. 

lying in a bunk and somebody was trying to pour some- 
thing down my throat. Your skipper was just telling 
me what a splendid light you made to get me, and how 
near you came to losing the number of your mess, and 
sending your vessel home with her flag at half-mast in 
doing it. I’m awfully grateful, and I hope some time I 
may be able to prove it ; for I’ve been a pretty bad lot, 
and was not ready to go up aloft yet.” 

“ No,” said Breeze, soberly, “ I don’t suppose many of 
us are.” Then he asked, “ Are you an American ?” The 
other’s name, and a foreign accent to his speech, led to 
the question. 

“Not yet,” answered Wolfe, smiling, “but I hope to be 
in two years more when I come of age. At present I am 
an Irishman. That is, my father is Irish, my mother is 
English, and I was born in England, but brought up in 
Queenstown, Ireland, where my parents live, and from 
which I ran away to sea about a year ago. Before they 
were married, my father was butler and my mother lady’s- 
maid in the household of Sir Wolfe Tresmont. That’s 
where I got my first name. My father is now a linen- 
draper in Queenstown, where his best customers are 
Americans. I was sent to school in England for four 
years, but I hated it, and from seeing and hearing so 
much of Americans, I had a great desire to come to this 


L. of C. 


ioo Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

country. Last year my father took me from school and 
set me to work in his shop. I hated that worse than 
school, and seeing a chance to run away and ship on 
board a bark bound for Boston, I took it and came over 
here. 

“By the time I got on this side I had had enough of 
merchant sailing ; and, as I could not find anything else 
to do, thought I would try fishing. Since then I have 
made two trips, one of four months to the Newfoundland 
Banks, and one to George’s before this one. Now here 
I am, and you know more about me than I have told to 
another living soul since leaving home.” 

“Well,” said Breeze, “you know a good deal more 
about yourself than I do about myself. I suppose I must 
have had a real father and mother, but I never knew 
them, for I was picked up at sea, floating in a cask, when 
I was a baby. I am almost certain I must be an Ameri- 
can, though, for I know I could never love any other coun- 
try so well. I’m glad you are going to be one too, as 
soon as you can. Don’t you think I look more like an 
American than anything else ?” he inquired, a little anx- 
iously. 

“ I don’t know,” replied the other, regarding him at- 
tentively. “ Yes, on the whole I think perhaps you do. 
Still, with light hair and blue eyes, you know, you might 


IOI 


A Struggle for a Life . 

be a Scandinavian, or a Dutchman, or an Englishman, or 
a Scotchman, or even an Irishman.’’ 

They both laughed at this, and Breeze said, 

“You might as well quote 4 Pinafore ’at once and be 
done with it.” 

So the conversation between the two, which had been 
rather constrained at first, became more easy and confi- 
dential, until they found themselves discussing each oth- 
er’s hopes and plans with the freedom of old friends. 

Every now and then a shadow would sweep over 
Wolfe’s face, and he would speak in a lower tone as he 
thought of the probable fate of his recent shipmates. 
Still, as grieving could do neither them nor him the 
slightest good, he tried to keep cheerful, by remembering 
how marvellously he himself had been spared. He con- 
fessed to Breeze that he had caused his parents much 
trouble and anxiety, by his manner of life, both in school 
and at home, but declared that now he really meant to 
turn over a new leaf. 

“ I’ll begin by writing to my mother as soon as ever 
we reach port,” he said, “ for it makes me feel ashamed of 
myself to remember that I have not sent home a single 
line since I left there. I do not suppose they have the 
slightest idea what has become of me, or whether I am 
alive or dead.” 

8 


102 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

To Breeze, his mother was so near and dear, he had 
thought of her and written to her so often even during 
his short absence from home, that Wolfe’s account of his 
own neglect was most surprising. Still, he did not feel at 
liberty to express his feelings in the matter, and only 
said, “ I would, if I were you, by all means ; she must be 
feeling awfully at not hearing.” 

The rest of the schooner’s crew had been hard at work 
catching fish since daylight, and during their conversation 
Breeze and Wolfe had also been busy with their lines. 
Several other schooners were still in sight, though at long 
distances from them. Most of the fleet had been scattered 
far and wide by the gale, which, though short, had been 
one of the severest of the season. After it was over many 
of the fishing vessels returned to port to refit, while the 
fate of others was told by the melancholy signs of wreck 
and disaster that every now and then floated past the 
Albatross. Her skipper knew that for a time fresh fish 
would command an extra price in the Eastern market 
and so was anxious to carry in as large a fare as possible. 
For this reason, in spite of the damaged condition of his 
vessel, he remained on the bank two days longer before 
getting up the anchors that had held her so well, and 
heading for home. 

In the mean time tidings of the gale and its destruction 


103 


A Struggle for a Life . 

of lives and vessels had reached Gloucester, and had caused 
the greatest anxiety there. As one after another of the 
schooners that had escaped sailed into the harbor, their 
crews were eagerly questioned for news of this one or that 
one not yet heard from. At last one came in bringing 
with her a dory that she had picked up, and on which was 
stencilled the name “ Albatross .” Her skipper reported that 
on the night of the awful storm, during a slight lull, he 
had caught a momentary glimpse of two lights. They 
were so close together that the vessels bearing them must 
have been in collision. They bore from him just as the 
Albatross had when he last saw her. As he looked the 
lights suddenly disappeared, either from the shutting in 
again of the snow, or because they had gone to the bottom. 
Soon afterwards his own craft had parted her cables, but 
had managed to weather the gale, and on the following 
day he had picked up this dory. That was all, but it 
seemed to seal the fate of the schooner, whose return had 
until then been watched for so hopefully and so anx- 
iously. 

Mrs. McCloud had made Captain Coffin, who was still 
at home, promise to bring her the very first tidings, wheth- 
er good or bad, that should come. How with a heavy 
heart he walked slowly towards the little cottage, in 
which sorrow was becoming so familiar a visitor, 


104 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

The moment he opened the door, and the anxious loving 
mother caught sight of his face, she exclaimed, “ He is 
lost ; my boy is lost ! I know he is ! I can see it in your 
face !” 

“ You must not give up all hope yetj” said the captain, 
soothingly, seeking to comfort her, though he felt that his 
words would be in vain. “ We do not yet know certainly 
the fate of the Albatross , though we have every reason to 
fear the worst.” 


A False Friend , and an Open Enemy . 165 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A FALSE FKIEND, AND AN OPEN ENEMY. 

LL night long the poor mother seemed to hear Cap- 



tain Coffin’s last words, “¥e have every reason to 
fear the worst,” repeated over and over ; but, as though 
to comfort her, they were always followed by the thought, 
“ Nothing certain is yet known.” She always tried to find 
a bright side to her troubles, and by looking steadily at it, 
to forget that there was any dark side. This plan worked 
so well now that by morning she had determined to still 
hope for the best, instead of fearing the worst, until some- 
thing more definite should be known. This was certain- 
ly the wisest thing to do, for more than half of all our 
troubles are those we think may come, but which, after 
all, never do come ; and hoping steadily for the best goes 
a long way towards bringing the best to us. 

Though all this had nothing to do with bringing Breeze 
McCloud home, he came nevertheless. While his mother 
was busy, with almost her usual cheerfulness, preparing 
breakfast, she heard a joyous shout in the little front 


106 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

yard, the door was burst open, and the next moment her 
boy’s arms were thrown about her neck. 

The Albatross had made a glorious run home, and passed 
in by Eastern Point at sunrise that morning. The mo- 
ment she was made fast to her wharf Breeze had jumped 
into a dory and pulled across the harbor, so as to be the 
first to teH his mother of his own arrival. He could stay 
to breakfast, but must get back to the schooner as quickly 
as possible afterwards, and help discharge the fare of fish 
she had brought in. One of the boy’s first questions was, 

“ Is there any news from father yet, mother ?” 

“ Hot yet,” was the answer ; “ but I feel certain there 
will be soon, and that when it comes it will be good news. 
How much w T e shall have to tell him when he does get 
home, and how proud he will be of you!” she added, 
fondly. 

Her faith in her husband’s return was still as strong as 
ever, and Breeze had always shared it. 

While they were at breakfast there came another shout 
in the front yard, the door again opened, and before he 
got fairly inside, Captain Coffin exclaimed, “ It’s all right, 
Mrs. McCloud ! The Albatross is in, and Breeze is — ” 

“ Here, and mighty glad to see you, sir !” cried the lad, 
jumping up from the table to greet the new-comer. 

“ Bless my soul!” exclaimed the astonished skipper, 


A False Friend \ and an Open Enemy. 107 

shaking Breeze heartily by the hand, and gazing at him 
incredulously, “ you have both out-footed and out-pointed 
me this time. I didn’t suppose the Albatross was tied up 
yet, and thought I had at least half an hour’s start of 
you.” 

The captain sat down to breakfast with them, and be- 
tween mouthfuls Breeze tried to give them an outline of 
his recent adventures. They were all so excited, and Mrs. 
McCloud had to jump up from the table so often to re- 
plenish the plates, that she only received a confused im- 
pression that her boy had saved somebody s life and 
caught the biggest fish that ever was seen. This, how- 
ever, satisfied her for the present ; the details she could 
learn afterwards. 

As soon as breakfast was over, Breeze started back for 
the schooner, and Captain Coffin went with him. While 
they were rowing across the harbor the latter said, 

“I’ve got a new schooner, Breeze, and a finer craft was 
never built in Essex. Her name is the Fish-hawk , and 
she is fitting out for a salt trip to Grand Bank. Don’t 
you want to ship on her? I can offer you a full share 
now.” 

“ I don’t know, sir. It seems as though I ought to stay 
with mother a few days at any rate.” 

“ So you can ; we sha’n’t get off for a week yet, but I 


108 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

thought I would speak about it now, so that if you decided 
to go I could hold the place for you. Besides, you could 
put your dunnage right aboard, which would save you the 
trouble of carrying it home when the Albatross hauls out 
for repairs.” 

“ All right, sir,” said Breeze ; “ I should like to go with 
you better than with anybody else, and I guess, inside of 
a week, I can persuade mother to let me start off again. 
If you’ve got room for another, I’d like to speak for a 
berth for a friend of mine too.” 

“Do you mean the one you went dorymate with on 
George’s the other day ?” asked the captain, laughing. 

“Yes, sir. His name is Wolfe Brady, and he has been 
on one trawling trip to the Banks already, besides two to 
George’s.” 

“Well, I’ve got about all the men I want, except a cook, 
and I don’t suppose he can fill that berth, but I’ll take a 
look at him, and if we suit each other perhaps I can make 
room for him.” 

“ If you want a cook,” said Breeze, eagerly, “ why not 
try and get old Mateo ? He is the best cook sailing out 
of Gloucester, and if the Albatross is going to be laid up 
for some time, perhaps he will go with us.” 

“I see that you were cut out for a regular shipping 
agent,” laughed the captain, “ but I’ll get Mateo if I can.” 


A False Friend , and an Open Enemy. 109 

Everything went well that day. Captain Coffin took 
a fancy to Wolfe and offered him a berth on the Fish- 
hawJc almost as soon as he saw him. Wolfe, who was 
willing to ship for any kind of a trip, was greatly pleased 
at the prospect of going with Breeze, and at once accepted 
the offer. 

Old Mateo, too, who, now that his boy had become a 
sailor, seemed to think it his duty to follow and watch 
over him, was easily booked as cook of the new schooner. 

The big halibut caught by Breeze sold for nearly 
twenty dollars, and the boy was handed a check for 
thirty -four dollars as the result of his eight days’ trip 
to George’s. Wolfe was also made happy by receiving 
twelve dollars as his share of the three days’ fishing after 
he had been picked up. 

After getting his check cashed, and repaying what old 
Mateo had loaned him, Breeze carried the rest home to 
his mother. This money, added to what he had made on 
the mackerelling trip in the Curlew , amounted to sixty-five 
dollars. It would be hard to tell whether he or his moth- 
er was the prouder over this satisfactory result of the 
boys’ first efforts as a bread-winner. 

During the long, happy talk that they had after supper, 
their one regret was that the father was not there to share 
their joy, but they spoke hopefully of his coming, and the 


i io Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

future looked brighter to them than it had for many a 
day. Mrs. McCloud was greatly interested in what 
Breeze had to tell her of his adventure with the New 
York jeweller who had opened the golden ball. They 
both examined it minutely, but could discover no joint 
amid the delicate tracery of its surface. After it had 
been again restored to its place, Mrs. McCloud cautioned 
the boy to always guard it carefully, as she felt more than 
ever certain that some day it would prove of great value 
to him. 

About eight o’clock Breeze started up, saying that he 
must go back to the schooner after Wolfe Brady. He 
had invited him to come home to supper and spend the 
night, but Wolfe had begged for a little time in which to 
purchase some very necessary additions to his scanty 
wardrobe, and Breeze had promised to meet him on board 
the Albatross soon after eight o’clock. Since then he had 
told his mother all that he knew of the young stranger, 
and so excited her interest in him that she now sent him 
an invitation to stay with them as long as he should re- 
main in port. 

Kissing his mother good-by, and promising to be back 
very soon, Breeze left the house ; and taking her sewing, 
Mrs. McCloud sat down to await his return. 

Neither Wolfe Brady nor anybody else was to be seen 


A False Friend, and an Open Enemy. 1 1 1 

on the Albatross when Breeze reached her. Near by lay 
the Fish-hawJc , to which he had transferred his dunnage 
that afternoon, but she too was deserted. On the oppo- 
site side of the wharf lay a shabby-looking old schooner, 
named Vixen, on which several men were still at work, 
evidently getting her ready for sailing. Breeze asked 
them if they had seen anybody answering Wolfe’s descrip- 
tion about there recently. 

“ Yes,” answered one of them, “ I seen a young feller 
like that hanging round here ’bout half an hour ago. He 
came over here and got talking with Hank Hoffer, one of 
our men, and they walked off uptown together. I ex- 
pect they’ll be back directly.” 

“ Did you hear them say where they were going ?” 

“ No ; seems to me, though, I did hear Hank say some- 
thing ’bout Grimes’s. Shouldn’t wonder if they’d gone 
up there to get a drink.” 

Breeze started at the mention of Grimes’s, for he knew 
it to be one of the lowest and very worst drinking-dens 
in the town. Such places are not permitted by law to 
exist in Gloucester, but occasionally they escape the vigi- 
lance of the police for a short time, and in them many 
a sturdy fisherman is tempted to squander the money 
he has risked his life to earn. 

Captain McCloud had seen so much of the pitiful misery 


1 1 2 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

and sorrow caused by drink that he had brought Breeze 
up to regard it with horror. As soon as the boy was old 
enough to realize what he was doing, he had promised his 
father that, so long as he lived, he would never touch a 
drop of any intoxicating liquor. He had never signed a 
pledge, nor had his father asked him to; for although 
Breeze was slow to make promises, he would as soon cut 
off his hand as to break one that he had made, and his 
father trusted him implicitly. 

How, although he was neither a prig nor a goody-goody 
boy it distressed Breeze to think of any one whom he 
called friend visiting Grimes’s. His one hope was that, 
being a stranger in town, Wolfe did not know what sort 
of a place it was, and that he would leave it and come 
back as soon as he discovered its character. 

In this hope he waited for half an hour longer, and 
then, as Wolfe still failed to appear, he determined to go 
in search of him. He knew pretty nearly where Grimes’s 
was, and walked in that direction. Yery soon he saw sev- 
eral men come out from a dark passage-way and turn 
down the street, talking and laughing loudly. He fol- 
lowed them until satisfied that Wolfe was not among 
them, and then returned and waited until another party 
came out from the same passage-way. His friend did not 
appear this time, and he felt that he must go in and either 


A False Friend ’ and an Open Enemy . 113 

satisfy himself that Wolfe was not there, or persuade him 
to come away if he was. 

He walked back and forth several times before he 
could make up his mind to go in. At last, feeling that 
he was acting the part of a coward, he entered the pas- 
sage, and finding a closed door at its farther end, tried to 
open it. The noise that he made was evidently heard 
inside, for a slide in one of the upper panels of the door 
was pushed back a few inches, and a bright light flashed 
full in his face. 

“ Who are you ?” asked a voice through the opening. 

“ Ho matter who I am,” replied Breeze. “ I come to 
look for a friend and I want to be let in.” 

“Well, you can’t come in until you’ve told me your 
name, and whether you are alone or not.” 

“ My name is Breeze McCloud, if you must have it, and 
I am alone,” answered the boy. 

“ That’s all right ; I recognize you now,” said the voice, 
and the next moment the door was thrown open. 

Just then two figures came through the dimly lighted 
hall-way that the open door disclosed, and in the voice 
of one of them Breeze recognized that of Wolfe Brady. 

He waited until they got to wh^re he was standing, and 
then, taking hold of his friend’s arm, he said, “ I’ve been look- 
ing for you, Wolfe, and waiting to take you home with me.” 


1 14 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Hello, Breeze !” exclaimed the other, huskily ; “ glad 
to see you, old boy. You’re just in time to go back and 
have a drink with us.” 

“ Ho, thank you,” replied Breeze ; “ I never drink any- 
thing. I only came here to find you, and now I want you 
to go home with me.” 

“Oh, come along in,” said Wolfe’s companion, in a 
disagreeable tone. “ You ain’t afraid, are you ?” 

“Ho,” said Breeze, “I’m not afraid; but now that I’ve 
found my friend there’s no reason why I should go in, 
and I don’t choose to do so.” 

“ Well, you needn’t put on any of your high and mighty 
airs with me,” exclaimed the other, threateningly. “ This 
gentleman is as much my friend as he is yours, and I’m 
going to prove it by taking him inside again. Come 
back in, old pard,” he added, grasping Wolfe’s other 
arm as he stood balancing himself unsteadily between 
the two. 

“Ho,” said Breeze, decidedly, “he sha’n’t go back;” 
and with this he endeavored to pull Wolfe through the 
still open door-way into the street. 

Here the door-keeper, who had watched the scene im- 
patiently, interfered, and saying, “ I can’t have any dis- 
turbance here, gentlemen ; you’ll have to settle this busi- 
ness outside,” assisted Breeze to such purpose that the 


A False Friend , and an Open Enemy. 1 1 5 

next moment all three were in the street, and the door 
was closed behind them. 

This excited Wolfe’s anger so that he began to kick 
the door, at the same time screaming to be let in. 

“Oh, come, this won’t do!” exclaimed Wolfe’s com- 
panion. “ This racket ’ll bring the police down on us in 
no time. You see now what a fix you’ve got us into, 
don’t yer ?” he asked, turning to Breeze. 

“ I see what a fix you’ve got this poor fellow into by 
bringing him to such a place,” replied the latter, indig- 
nantly, “and I hope you feel as ashamed of yourself as 
you ought to be.” 

* “ None of your preaching !” cried the other, fiercely, 
“ or you and I’ll have a bigger score to settle than we’ve 
got now. Take hold of him, can’t you? and let’s get 
away from here before we get nabbed.” 

Together they succeeded in pulling Wolfe from the 
door, and in directing his unsteady steps down the street 
in the direction of the wharf. 

While Breeze was wondering what on earth he should 
do with his friend in this wretched condition, Wolfe’s 
intoxication assumed a new form, and he began to yell 
and sing at the top of his voice. 

“Stop that noise, or I’ll take you all in,” shouted a 
gruff voice behind them. 


1 1 6 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“ Shut up, can’t yer?” exclaimed Wolfe’s companion to 
him, angrily. “ Don’t you hear the police ?” 

But Wolfe only yelled the louder, and began to revile 
the police, and dare them to come and get him. 

“We must cut for it,” said Hank Hoffer, for this was 
the name of Wolfe’s companion. “Grab him tight and 
run him. We’re pretty near there.” 

Almost carrying Wolfe between them, the others hur- 
ried him along at such a pace as to quite take his breath 
away and put a stop to any further outcries. 

As they reached the wharf Hank said, “ Quick, now ! 
let’s get him aboard this schooner. I belong here, and 
it’ll be all right. We’ll get him below, and put him in ft 
bunk, where they’ll never notice him. Hurry, they’re 
coming !” 

In the excitement of the moment Breeze did not stop 
to think whether this was a wise thing to do or not ; and, 
only anxious to shield his friend from the consequences 
of his own folly, he blindly obeyed these instructions. 

Wolfe stumbled on the deck of the schooner and fell, 
striking his head against the wheel. When they got him 
below he seemed stupid, and blood was flowing from a 
gash on his forehead. 

Pulling forward a bucket of water, and handing Breeze 
a rag, Hank said, “ You sponge him off, and keep him 





A False Friend ’ and an Open Enemy . 1 1 7 

quiet while I go on deck and see whether the police have 
followed us down here or not.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he sprang up the com- 
panion-way and pulled the slide over it. Then he went 
forward, and began to talk in a low tone to the skipper of 
the schooner, who, with several other men, was on deck. 
The police had evidently given up the chase some time 
before, for none were in sight on the wharf. 

What Hank Hoffer said to the skipper was, “I’ve 
brought you a couple of first-class hands, and they’re 
both drunk dow A i in the cabin ; but they’ll be all right 
to-morrow. They were making such a racket in the 
streets that the police gave us a run for it. I’m afraid 
they’ll come after us yet ; so, as long as we’re all ready, 
why don’t you cast off, drop out into the stream, and 
make a start. 

How, this skipper was not much liked by those who 
knew him, nor was his old schooner a popular boat ; so 
he had found it somewhat difficult to get a crew for the 
trip she was about to make to the Newfoundland Banks. 
He had, however, succeeded in shipping all but two of 
the necessary number, and now that these two had come 
aboard of their own free-will, he saw no reason why he 
should not take Hank Hoffer’s advice and make a start. 

The motion of the schooner was so gentle as she drift- 


1 1 8 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

ed away from the wharf that Breeze, busily bathing his 
friend’s head, did not notice it. When, however, those 
on deck began to hoist the sails, he recognized the sound 
quickly enough, and springing up, tried to push back the 
companion-way slide. It was locked. Then he began to 
pound on it furiously, and to shout for somebody to come 
and unfasten it ; but no attention was paid to his outcries. 

“It’s only those drunken fellows in the cabin,” ex- 
plained Hank Hoffer to the rest of the crew; “they’ll 
quiet down directly.” 

So Breeze McCloud and Wolfe Brady sailed away in 
the old schooner Vixen for Grand Bank, while in the little 
cottage on the eastern hill an anxious woman sat and 
waited for their coming. 


Kidnapped . — The Promise . 


1 19 


CHAPTER IX. 

KIDNAPPED. THE PROMISE. 

T^INDIXG that no notice was taken of his shouts to be 
released 'from the cabin, Breeze finally sat down on 
the transom beside the bunk in which Wolfe was now 
sleeping heavily, and tried to puzzle out the meaning of 
what had taken place. At first he thought it might be a 
sort of a practical joke, and perhaps the Vixen was only 
being carried out in the bay to get a good position for an 
early start in the morning. In that case he did not doubt 
but he would be allowed to return to the city when she 
came to anchor. As time wore on, and the schooner still 
continued to move rapidly through the water, even this 
hope began to disappear. At last the motion of the ves- 
sel convinced him that she had passed out of the bay, and 
was now riding the long, regular swells of the open sea. 

He now remembered that the Vixen had been fitting 
for a trip to the Grand Bank, and realized that she had 
really begun the long voyage that might last for months. 
If he could only have bidden his mother good-by, and told 


120 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

her where he was going ! Now the thought of her dis- 
tress at his unexplained absence completely overcame him. 
Throwing himself at full length on the hard transom, he 
buried his face in his hands and sobbed as though his 
heart would break. Finally, tired out by his long, hard 
day’s work, his recent excitement, and the strength of his 
emotions, he fell into a troubled sleep. 

Soon afterwards the companion-way slide was pushed 
back, and the skipper, Hank Hoffer, and another man 
entered the cabin and tumbled into their bunks, but with- 
out waking the prisoners. 

“ Sleep sound enough, don’t they ?” remarked the skip- 
per. 

“Yes,” answered Hank Hoffer. “Drunken men al- 
ways do.” 

It was broad daylight when Breeze awoke, cramped 
and stiff from lying so long on the bare boards of the 
transom. As he sat up and looked about him, his 
thoughts were in such confusion that he could not for a 
moment recall where he was. Seeing Wolfe Brady asleep 
in the bunk beside him brought back the events of the 
preceding evening with a rush, and starting up, he went 
on deck. There a single glance showed him that they 
were out of sight of land and heading to the eastward. 

A young man whose face looked somewhat familiar 


Kidnapped ’ — The Promise. 1 2 1 

to “him was at the wheel, though he could not recollect 
where he had seen it. 

“ Hello !” exclaimed this individual. “ Turned out, have 
yer ? Feel any better than you did last night ?” 

Breeze started at the sound of the voice. It was that 
of Wolfe Brady’s companion of the night before, of whose 
face he had not at any time obtained a good view, but 
whom he now recognized. “ What do you mean,” he 
asked, stepping up to the young man, “ by playing such a 
trick on me ? How dared you lock us into that cabin and 
bring us off in this way ?” 

“ Ho, ho !” laughed the other, “ I dare do almost any- 
thing. As for what I meant by it, I told you a while ago 
that I’d get even with you for laughing at me when that 
mackerel seine broke and pitched us all overboard. I’ve 
only kept my word.” 

How it flashed across Breeze where he had seen the 
face before. It was while on his trip in the Curlew , and 
this young man had been one of the crew of the Bock- 
haven schooner — the one who had shaken his fist and 
threatened him for laughing at their ridiculous mishap. 

“I laid up another grudge agin you yesterday,” com 
tinued Hank Hoffer. “ When I went to Captain Coffin and 
asked for a chance on the Fish-hawk , he said he had just 
engaged you and your mate, and didn’t want any more 


122 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

hands. So I had to ship on this old packet. When I 
found your mate hanging around alone last evening, I 
saw a chance to fix him, and thought I’d get even with 
you that way. Then you had to come along, like the 
greenhorn that you are, and walk right into the trap too. 
I tell you what, young feller, you won’t never gain noth- 
ing by running afoul the hawse of ITank TIoffer ! So put 
that in your pipe and smoke it, and see that you remem- 
ber it too.” 

It was all plain enough to Breeze now, and he turned 
away angry and heart-sick, to think that his own care- 
lessness should have led him into such a predicament. He 
thought he could not feel any worse than he did, but a 
minute later he found himself confronted by a new trou- 
ble, beside which the other became insignificant. 

As he re-entered the cabin he found the skipper awake, 
and at once began to charge him with having kidnapped 
them, and to threaten that if they were not set aboard 
the first homeward-bound vessel they met, he would have 
him arrested the moment they again reached Gloucester. 

The skipper listened to all this in amazement, and when 
Breeze had ended said, 

“ You’d better be careful in your choice of words, my 
young friend, or you may get yourself into trouble. I 
never kidnapped you or anybody else in my life, and I 


Kidnapped . — The Promise. 123 

don’t know what yon mean. You came aboard this ves- 
sel of your own free-will just as she was about to start. 
Your friend on deck there told me that you wanted to 
ship with us for the pleasure of sailing in his company. 
I took his word for it instead of talking with you, because 
you were too drunk to — ” 

“I drunk!” interrupted Breeze, excitedly. “I never 
drank a drop of liquor in my life, and anybody who says 
I was drunk last night lies ; that’s all.” 

“ Oh, come now,” said the skipper, beginning to get 
angry in turn, “ that’s too thin. Didn’t you come stum- 
bling aboard last night as no sober man would have done ? 
Didn’t you raise particular Cain down here in the cabin 
for a while, and then fall into such a heavy sleep that noth- 
ing could wake you from it ? Don’t your eyes show that 
you have been drinking ? Wasn’t the smell of whiskey al- 
most strong enough to knock a man down when I came 
into the cabin to turn in, and nobody ’d been here but you 
and your mate ? Besides all this, didn’t I see you myself 
hanging round Grimes’s not more than half an hour before 
you came aboard ? Don’t tell me again you wasn’t drunk. 
There’s nothing I despise so much as a sneak that tries to 
crawl out of a scrape by lying about it. Now wake up 
that partner of yours and turn him out, or I’ll come down 
here and do it for you with a bucket of salt-water,” 


1 24 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

With this the skipper went on deck, leaving Breeze be- 
wildered and stunned by the charge just made against 
him, and the amount of apparent proof brought J<o sus- 
tain it. 

The worst of it all was that if the skipper had seen him 
in the vicinity of Grimes’s, others might also have seen 
him there, and would report the fact when inquiries began 
to be made for him. Then, too, if the whole crew of the 
Vixen believed as their captain evidently did, that he had 
been drunk, would anybody ever believe his simple as- 
sertion that he had not been so, against their statement 
that he was ? What would Captain Coffin think ? What 
would his mother think? Would not her heart be broken 
by this horrid report coming on top of his mysterious and 
unexplained disappearance? In his agony of mind the 
poor boy groaned aloud. At this sound a voice behind 
him exclaimed, 

“ Hello ! What’s the matter, Breeze ?” 

Turning quickly, he saw Wolfe Brady awake, but still 
lying in his bunk and regarding him with dull eyes. 

“Matter enough,” he answered; “for if ever a fellow 
was in a worse fix than I am I should like to know it. 
You ought not to be the one to ask, anyhow,” he added, 
bitterly. 

“Why, what do you mean, old man?” inquired Wolfe, 


Kidnapped . — The Promise. 125 

leaning upon his elbow and gazing about the dirty cabin 
with a perplexed air. “ Where are we, anyhow ? What 
craft is this ? Somehow, it doesn’t seem like the Alba- 
tross.”* 

“ Albatross /” exclaimed Breeze. “ I should say not. 
We are on board the Vixen , bound for the Grand Bank, 
with only our shore clothes for an outfit, and nobody in 
Gloucester knows what has become of us.” 

“You don’t mean it!” cried Wolfe, now thoroughly 
aroused. “ How did it all happen?” 

“ Do you mean to tell me,” said Breeze, “ that you do 
not remember anything of what happened to us last 
night ?” 

“ Hot a thing. ’Pon my honor. The last I remember 
is that after waiting a while for you I fell in with a pleas- 
ant fellow on the w T harf who wanted me to stroll uptown 
with him. He said we would not be gone more than fif- 
teen minutes. We stopped in at some kind of a place to 
get a drink. He treated me, then of course I had to treat 
him, and after that I don’t remember anything more. 
What vile stuff it must have been! Ugh! my mouth 
tastes like brass and my head feels as though it were 
made of red-hot lead.” 

“Well,” said Breeze, “that drink of yours has got us 
into about as mean a scrape as I know of, and if it hasn’t 


126 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

completely ruined my reputation and broken my mother’s 
heart, I shall be thankful.” 

“ My dear fellow, you don’t mean to tell me it is as bad 
as all that!” exclaimed Wolfe, now sitting up, and with a 
tone of deep concern. “ It doesn’t seem possible. I wish 
you would explain what you mean.” 

“ There isn’t time now,” answered Breeze; “the cook 
called breakfast ten minutes ago, and we’ll have to hurry 
if we want to get any. You’d better get on deck and 
douse your head in a bucket of cold water. It will do 
you good. After breakfast I’ll tell you the whole story, 
and then we can make up our minds what to do.” 

The men who sat at the breakfast - table with Breeze 
and Wolfe regarded them curiously, winked slyly to one 
another, and made a few jokes in low tones upon their 
appearance, but nobody spoke to them. 

After the meal was over, as no particular attention was 
paid to them, they found a sheltered place forward, away 
up in the eyes of the schooner. There Breeze related to 
Wolfe all that had happened during the preceding night, 
bringing his story down to that morning, and not omit- 
ting the remarks the skipper had made to the effect that 
he had been intoxicated. 

Before he had finished, Wolfe was worked up into a 
state of furious anger. “ You miserable low-lived scoun- 


Kidnapped . — The Promise. 1 2 7 

drel!” he muttered through his clinched teeth, shaking 
his fist in the direction of Hank Hoffer, whom he now 
recognized as the one who had played him such a mean 
trick the night before ; “ I’ll pay you off for this ; see if I 
don’t.” 

“ It w^as a mean trick, and I hope he’ll live to be sorry 
for it,” said Breeze ; “ but don’t you think you were al- 
most as much to blame as he ?” 

“ I !” exclaimed Wolfe, in surprise ; 44 how do you mean ? 
By being so soft as to let that fellow get the best of me ?” 

44 1 mean by having anything to do with him when you 
found out that he wanted you to drink with him.” 

44 Why, man ! I thought he only wanted me to take a 
glass with him in a friendly way.” 

44 And do you think it is right to take that kind of a 
glass V 9 

44 Certainly ; where’s the harm ?” 

44 Well, I expect you and I have been differently brought 
up, then. My father thinks it is the very worst and most 
dangerous habit a young man can get into. As for the 
harm, seems to me it is plain enough in this case at any 
rate. If it hadn’t been for that glass we wouldn’t be in 
this fix now, and mother wouldn’t be breaking her heart 
at home, as I’m sure she is at this minute, for not knowing 
what has become of us.” 


128 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“I hadn’t thought of it in that light,” said Wolfe, who 
had never been taught as Breeze had, to regard drinking 
as a sin. 

“ I wish I could get you to think of it in that light 
now,” said Breeze. “ Oh, Wolfe ! if you would only prom- 
ise, this very minute, that you’d never touch another glass 
of liquor as long as you live, I believe I should be glad 
that all this had happened — will you ?” 

Wolfe looked at him for a moment without speaking, 
then he said, “Would you rather I’d promise you that 
than anything else, Breeze ?” 

“ Yes, I would.” 

“ Then I’ll do it. Not long ago you risked your life to 
save mine, and I told you that from that time on it was 
at your service. This is the first thing you have asked of 
me since, and I’m not the lad to go back on my word. 
So now I promise you, and there’s my hand on it, that so 
long as I live I’ll never taste another drop of strong drink 
unless you ask me to.” 

“ Then you never will,” said Breeze, smiling ; “ and, 
Wolfe, if you only knew how glad I am to have that 
promise, it would make you very happy to think you had 
given it to me.” 

“ It makes me happy already to see you smile again, for 
I begin to see now how I have brought on all this trouble.” 


Kidnapped , — The Promise . 1 29 

“ Let’s not call it trouble any longer,” said Breeze, cheer- 
ily, “ but do as my mother does, and try to look on the 
bright side of it. We were coming to the Banks, anyway, 
in a week or so, and perhaps this trip will be luckier than 
the one on the Fish-hawk would have been, who knows ?” 

Just then the skipper came up to where they were sit- 
ting, and said, “ Well, boys! how goes it now? Feeling 
any better than you did ?” 

“Yes, very much,” answered Breeze, “but not so well 
as we should if you’d only get rid of the idea that I was 
drunk when we came aboard last night.” 

“It’s true, skipper,” added Wolfe, earnestly, “I was a 
little under the weather, I acknowledge, but Breeze, here, 
never drinks, and was as sober as a halibut. I can vouch 
for that. And I’m never going to get that way again 
either. I’ve sworn off.” 

“ Oh, well,” answered the skipper, carelessly, “ it’s all 
right now. There isn’t a drop aboard this craft,* so I 
ain’t afraid but that you’ll keep straight enough till the 
end of the trip anyhow.” 

“How that you have got us off here,” said Wolfe, 
“ what are you going to do in the way of finding us some- 


* As a rule, the Gloucester fishing skippers pride themselves upon 
never allowing any liquor to be carried to* sea aboard their vessels. 


130 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

thing to wear, besides these store clothes ?” Here he looked 
ruefully at the new suit he had bought the day before, 
which was already showing signs of hard usage. 

“What!” exclaimed the skipper, “ are those all you’ve 
brought with you ?” 

“ Of course they are ; we have not a rag except what we 
stand in.” 

“ Well, now, that’s bad; but perhaps some of the other 
fellows can spare a few old things, and there are a couple 
of extra oil suits aboard that you can have and I’ll charge 
’em up to you. By- th e-way, I suppose you two wilLgo 
dorymates ?” 

“ Of course,” answered Breeze, promptly ; “ we’ve already 
been dorymates on one trip, and we mean to be on ev ry 
other we ever take together.” 

“You’ll use dory Ho. 6, then,” said the skipper, “and 
you’d better get to work overhauling your trawls right 
off. You want to have everything in order before we 
get to the Banks, ’cause there won’t be any time to 
waste then. When we once get to fishing I shall expect 
every man on board the old packet to jump quick and 
make every minute tell, or else he’ll have to reckon with 
me fr r it.” 

“That’s all right, skipper. We’ve made up our minds 
to do our best so long as we are here and can’t help our- 
selves,” said Breeze. “ But we belong to the Fish-hawk , 


Kidnapped . — The Promise . 1 3 1 

yon know, and if we should happen to run across her at 
any time while we are on the Banks, you must not be 
surprised if we turn up missing some fine day.” 

“ We’ll see about that when the time comes,” replied 
the skipper, grimly ; “ but mind you, if you leave the ves- 
sel before the trip’s finished, you’ll lose all interest in 
what has been caught up to that time, and can’t claim a 
cent’s worth of it.” 

Both sides having thus arrived at a fair understand- 
ing with each other, the boys proceeded to make them- 
selves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. 
Though they declined to have anything to do with Hank 
Iloffer, they soon established friendly relations with the 
rest of the crew. They found the Vixen to be a dirty 
old craft, and very uncomfortable in man}^ respects. She 
was, however, an able sailor and a good sea-boat, and 
after weathering a pretty stiff gale she reached Grand 
Bank, nearly nine hundred miles from Gloucester, during 
the night of the sixth day out. 

Although the boys had said nothing more about desert- 
ing her, if they had a good chance they had fully made 
up their minds to do so. Little did they imagine, how- 
ever, under what circumstances this leave-taking was to 
be effected, or how they should long to once more set 
foot on the well-worn deck of the old Vixen. 

10 


132 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 


CHAPTER X. 


TRAWLS AND WHALES. 


TRAWLER, such as the Vixen was, is fitted out 



very differently from a seiner or a hand-liner, the 
styles of craft on which Breeze had made his previous 
fishing trips. Instead of a large seine-boat, she carries 
from four to eight dories, and a crew sufficiently large to 
allow two men to each dory, besides the skipper and cook. 
The trawls are tarred cotton ropes the size of a lead-pen- 
cil, that come in lengths of about fifty fathoms, or three 
hundred feet each. To these are attached at distances of 
a fathom apart for cod, and a fathom and a half apart for 
halibut, short lines of from three to six feet long, to the 
ends of which hooks are made fast. About six of these 
lengths of trawl, or 1800 feet, are coiled in a tub, and 
each dory will carry out and set from four to six tubs of 
trawl in from twenty to two hundred fathoms of water. 
The lines contained in the several tubs are made fast to 
each other, and all are set in one straight line, from one 
to two miles in length. The trawls are anchored at each 


Trawls and Whales . 


133 

end, and buoyed by small kegs, so that the hooks shall 
hang just clear of the bottom. 

As the Vixen was on a “salt trip,” the pens in the 
hold, instead of being filled with ice, contained several 
hundred bushels of coarse rock-salt. She had a crew of 
fourteen men all told, and on her deck, fitting into each 
other like nests of buckets, were six dories, three on each 
side. 

The next morning after reaching the Bank a fishing- 
ground was chosen, and the anchor was dropped over- 
board. Then the canvas was furled, the riding-sail was 
bent on, top-masts were sent down, and everything was 
made as snug as possible, and put in readiness for all sorts 
of weather. Baskets of frozen herring were got up from 
the hold, and cut into bait sizes with sharp knives on the 
bait-boards. These are heavy planks laid on top of the 
cabin. With this cut-up herring each dory crew baited 
the thousand or more hooks of their own trawl, and 
coiled the lines snugly away again in the tubs. 

That afternoon the trawls were set, one astern of the 
schooner, one ahead, one off each quarter, and one off each 
bow, these positions having been drawn for by lot before- 
hand. Thus the schooner formed the centre of a circle of 
trawls, the outer ends of which were nearly two miles 
from her. The position falling to Breeze and Wolfe was 


1 34 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

that directly ahead of the vessel. After going far enough 
away to be sure of being well clear of her, in case she 
should have swung round by morning, they began to set 
their trawl. Breeze continued to row in a straight line 
away from the schooner, while Wolfe, after dropping over- 
board the light anchor and the buoy-line attached to its 
floating keg, began to pay out the trawl with its baited 
hooks. It required great care and considerable skill to 
get them overboard without snarls or knots, so that each 
hook would be certain to hang straight down by itself 
and clear of all the others. After the job had been done 
neatly and properly, the second anchor was dropped, and 
a buoy, with a flag on it to mark the outer end of the 
trawl, was flung overboard. Then their work was fin- 
ished for the present ; for the line was to be left “ set ” 
all night, and would not be visited until early in the 
morning. 

As they rowed back to the schooner Breeze said, 
“ Wolfe, I want always to carry out some fresh water 
and some hard-tack in the dory after this. I’ve heard 
my father say a great many times that if all fishermen 
would only do this, half the lives that are now lost on the 
Banks might be saved.” 

“ You’ll be well laughed at on board for a coward if 
you do,” replied Wolfe. 


Trawls and Whales. 


: 35 


“ I don’t care. I’d rather any time be laughed at than 
to he lost out there somewhere in a fog, and perhaps drift 
round for days without anything to eat or drink.” 

“ All right,” said Wolfe; “I guess I can stand it if you 
can.” 

That night Breeze hunted up a small keg, which he 
filled with fresh water, and a box into which he put a 
couple of dozen ship biscuit wrapped in paper and stuffed 
into a sort of a water-proof bag that he made out of an 
old oil-skin jacket. 

When the whole crew was turned out at daylight the 
next morning, they found dreary, shivering weather up on 
the cold deck ; but after the hot coffee and hearty break- 
fast which the cook had ready for them, they felt better. 
All were then soon off in their dories, going in the direc- 
tion of the several buoy-flags left at the outer ends of 
their trawls the night before. 

As Breeze stowed his fresh water and provisions in the 
stern of dory No. 6, Hank Hoffer noticed what he was 
doing, and sung out to know what he was afraid of, and if 
he didn’t want to be tied to an apron-string for fear of 
getting lost. 

Wolfe’s hot Irish blood rushed to his face at these 
taunts, and he would have answered back but for Breeze, 
who said, 


1 36 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Let him alone, Wolfe. It makes him feel a great deal 
worse not to be noticed at all. Nothing would please 
him better than to get us into a muss, and to have the 
skipper order us off about our business.” 

“Well, I don’t know but what you are right, Breeze; 
but what a queer fellow you are, anyhow. It seems to 
me you must have been born with a wise head on your 
shoulders. Here I am a year older than you, but most 
any one hearing us talk would take you for the old boy 
and me for the young one.” 

They rowed steadily while they talked, and soon reached 
the little canvas flag that marked the buoy at the outer 
end of their trawl. 

“ I wonder what luck we’re going to have ?” said Breeze. 
“ What I like best about fishing is the not knowing what 
you are going to catch, and the thinking whenever you 
have bad-luck you may have better next time.” 

“ I expect that is the most interesting part about most 
things in this world,” said Wolfe; “but with all my luck 
I can’t start this anchor. It’s got foul of something. I 
expect we’ll have to rig up the hurdy-gurdy.” 

This was a small iron winch that could be set up in 
the bows of the dory, and which is often found necessary 
in heaving up heavy trawls. With its aid the refractory 
anchor was soon got aboard. The buoy had already been 


Trawls and Whales. 


137 


picked up, and at length the trawl began to appear. Now 
came the exciting moment. What would it bring ? Would 
every hook have its fish, or would they be few and far 
between? They would not even consider the possibility 
of its being what fishermen describe as a “ water haul,” 
or one bringing them nothing but empty hooks. Wolfe 
stood forward in the dory pulling in the line, while Breeze 
stood a few feet behind him, ready to take off the fish 
and stow the trawl in its tubs. 

“Here he is!” cried Wolfe at last. “Number one a 
cod, and a jolly big fellow at that. My eye ! but he must 
weigh fifty pounds at least. Our luck’s begun good at 
any rate. Bear a hand here with the gaff, Breeze. Quick ! 
There, my hearty ! lie still where you are put, and we’ll 
soon give you plenty of company.” 

After this came two or three bare hooks, and then a 
small halibut. Then half a dozen more codfish, one close 
after the other, and next only the skeleton of a fish with 
its bones picked as clean as though there had never been 
a particle of flesh on them. It astonished Breeze greatly, 
and he said, 

“Well! I never knew before that a fish’s skeleton 
would take bait. How hungry it must have been! It 
does look rather thin and gaunt, for a fact,” he added, 
laughing. 


1 38 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ He was something a good deal better than a skeleton 
when he took that hook,” explained Wolfe, who had 
hauled trawls before. “ The sand-fleas have made a meal 
off of him, and there must have been a pretty lot of them 
to go through him so quickly and completely.” 

“Sand-fleas ?” repeated Breeze, inquiringly. 

“ Yes, just such chaps as you may see almost any time 
hopping on a beach.” 

A haddock bearing the teeth-marks of the halibut that 
had tried to swallow him after he was caught came next. 
Then followed cod, cod, cod, so fast that by the time the 
trawl was half hauled, dory Ho. 6 was deep in the water 
and her crew did not dare to put another fish into her. 

They were in fine spirits over their good-luck, as they 
buoyed the trawl and pulled back to the schooner to get 
rid of their load before attempting to finish the haul. By 
this time a stiff northerly breeze was blowing, and the 
Vixen had swung with the change of wind, so that she 
now lay stern to them. This made their pull much shorter 
than it otherwise would have been. Owing to this they 
had the satisfaction of pitching the first fish of that cruise 
on the schooner’s deck. This greatly disappointed Hank 
Hoffer, who came up a minute later in dory Ho. 5, and 
who had fully expected to be able to claim the honor of 
“first fish,” 


Trawls and Whales. 


139 


He began to make ugly remarks to the effect that if 
they had waited to get a full load they would not have 
been back so quickly. This time the skipper cut him 
short with, “ Look to your own load, Hank. If you’d ’a’ 
waited to make it as big as the one these lads have 
brought in, you wouldn’t have come for half an hour 
yet.” 

As soon as the fish had been unloaded from dory Ho. 6, 
and the two tubs of trawl already hauled had been lifted 
out, the boys returned for the rest of their catch. They 
had hardly got the buoy aboard, and were just beginning 
to haul in the remainder of the trawl, when suddenly the 
most surprising thing occurred. 

The dory was at once, and without the slightest warn- 
ing, lifted bodily several feet into the ' air, and both its 
occupants were flung down, Wolfe striking and breaking 
a thwart in his fall. Immediately afterwards the dory 
slid on its side, and apparently downhill, into the water. 
It was only by scrambling hastily to the upper gunwale 
that the boys kept it from capsizing. As it was, it was 
half full of water before they succeeded in righting it. 

At the same moment they heard a loud rushing sound 
like escaping steam, a column of spray was thrown high 
in the air, and they caught a glimpse of a huge black ob- 
ject sinking out of sight but a short distance from them. 


140 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

As it disappeared, their boat was rocked violently on the 
waves that surged over the place where it had been. 

Both the boys were terribly startled, and for a moment 
greatly frightened, by this mysterious occurrence. They 
had instinctively begun bailing the water from the dory 
almost as soon as they found that she still floated right 
side up. Breeze was the first to recover the breath which 
had been nearly driven from his body by the shock of his 
overthrow, and now he gasped out, 

“Do you think it was an earthquake, Wolfe?” Before 
Wolfe could answer, a large whale, evidently the mate 
of the one that had given them such a scare, rose to the 
surface to blow, a hundred yards to one side of them, and 
Breeze exclaimed, “ So that’s what it was! Well, I’m 
mighty glad he didn’t come along and hoist us on his 
back while the dory was loaded down as she was half 
an hour ago.” 

“So am I,” began Wolfe, “but hello!” he cried, stop- 
ping his bailing and starting up. “ Whatever has got 
into the old Vixen f She must have a steam-engine 
aboard.” 

Breeze looked, and, to his astonishment, saw the schoon- 
er moving away from them, and going through the w T ater 
at a speed of ten or twelve knots an hour. Her sails were 
still furled, and apparently her anchor was still down ; 


A LARGE WHALE ROSE TO THE SURFACE TO BLOW 


















Trawls and Whales. 


141 

but she was certainly moving, and that at a rapid rate. 
The white water was foaming under her bows, and a 
wake, like that of a steamer, was trailing and eddying 
behind her. 

“It’s one of those whales, and he’s caught a fluke of 
her anchor in his blow-hole or in his jaws. Yes, sir, he’s 
running away with her !” exclaimed Breeze, who had heard 
his father describe a similar occurrence as having hap- 
pened to him once on the Banks. 

“That’s what it must be,” said Wolfe. “But it beats 
anything I ever heard of. My eye! isn’t she going, 
though !” 

“Well,” remarked Breeze, as they watched the rapidly 
vanishing schooner, “ I should say that fishing in these 
waters was pretty exciting work. I know it beats mack- 
erelling, or life on George’s. Do you know whether it 
is always as lively here as it seems to be this morning, 
Wolfe?” 

“This goes ahead of anything in my experience,” was 
the reply. “ I only hope the old man will cut his cable 
before he loses sight of us, or that he has had sense 
enough to take our bearings so that he can pick us up 
again. "Now that we have got a quiet spell, I suppose 
we might as well finish bailing before the next perform- 
ance begins.” 


142 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

After they had rid the boat of all the water she had 
shipped, they began once more to haul in on their trawl. 
They reasoned that if the schooner came back they would 
be so much ahead with their work, and if she did not, 
they could pitch the fish overboard ; while, in the mean 
time, the occupation would keep them from worrying 
over what might happen. 

They had got nearly to the end of their trawl, and the 
dory was again deeply laden with fish, when Breeze cried 
out, joyfully, “ Here she comes back !” 

He was right. The white sails of the schooner could 
be seen, though at a great distance from them, and they 
knew that she had in some way got rid of her unwelcome 
tow-boat, and was on her way back. 

Two of the other dories that had been left behind now 
approached them, and a man in one of them called out, 
“I don’t suppose you fellows have got any fresh water 
aboard, have you ?” 

“Yes, we have plenty of it,” shouted Wolfe. “I de- 
clare I had forgotten it, though, and I’m awfully thirsty 
myself,” he added to Breeze. 

The latter had no reason to regret his thoughtfulness 
when he saw how heartily they all enjoyed the water 
and a lunch of biscuit that, but for him, they would have 
gone without. 


Trawls and Whales. 


43 


So far had the schooner been towed before the whale 
had managed to clear himself from his encumbrance that 
she was nearly two hours in making her way back to 
them. Her skipper had refused to cut the cable, for he 
was a part owner in the vessel, and did not want to be 
put to the expense of a new one. Thus he showed one 
of the traits in his character that made him so unpopular. 
He was always ready to sacrifice the comfort, and even 
the safety, of his men, rather than run the risk of losing 
money. 

At last the schooner did return to the waiting dories, 
and their loads of fish were transferred to her deck, after 
which the trawls were rebaited and again set out. Then 
came a busy time spent in “ dressing down that is, clean- 
ing the fish, cutting off their heads, splitting and salting 
them, and finally packing them in the hold. After this, 
the trawls were again hauled and again set for the night. 
Owing to the delay of the morning, the second catch had 
to be “ dressed down ” by lantern - light, so that it was 
nearly eleven o’clock before the tired crew were allowed 
to throw themselves into their bunks for a few hours’ 
sleep. 

The air during the day had been growing steadily cold- 
er, and before dark the peculiar chill denoting the pres- 
ence of ice at no great distance had been noticed, and 


144 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

had occasioned some anxiety. The season was unusually 
backward, and a recent succession of northerly gales had 
driven the arctic ice almost to the edge of the Gulf 
Stream. This had been reported before the Vixen left 
Gloucester ; but, as her crew had not yet met with any 
ice, they hoped it had again gone north, and that they 
were to escape it entirely. 

While Hank Hoffer was on watch that night he busied 
himself for some time with the contents of dory Ho. 6, 
and any one standing close beside him might have heard 
him mutter, “ There, I hope those sneaks will enjoy the 
drink I’ve fixed for them. I’ll teach ’em that we don’t 
want any cowards aboard this craft.” 

An hour later, or shortly before daylight, the tired 
sleepers in cabin and forecastle were roused from their 
dreams, and brought shivering out from their warm 
bunks by the hoarse voice of the watch on deck shouting 
down the companion-ways, “ Hear the news below there ! 
Tumble out all hands ! Lolly ice all around us, and a big 
berg bearing down from dead ahead !” 


Surrounded by Arctic Ice. 


M5 


CHAPTER XI. 

SURROUNDED BY ARCTIC ICE. 

r T^HERE is nothing more dreary or depressing in the 
whole experience of a fisherman’s hard life than to 
be awakened from a sound sleep and turned out from 
snug quarters to fight against ice. In either form, as it 
drifts down upon his vessel from arctic seas, or as it ac- 
cumulates in the form of frozen spray upon her bows, un- 
til, to reduce the great weight that endangers her safety, 
he must attack it with axes and iron bars, it is an enemy 
to be dreaded and cordially hated. So, to the tired crew 
of the Vixen , the unwelcome announcement made at the 
close of the last chapter brought them on deck, grumbling 
at their hard fate and shivering in the deadly chill of the 
air. 

There was no time to spare, for they could plainly dis- 
tinguish, looming from out the gloom on their starboard 
bow, the vast form that threatened their destruction. 
They could already feel its icy breath, colder even than 
the chill of the night, and note that its motion, aided by 
11 


146 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

converging currents of air and water, was such that with- 
in a few minutes it must sweep over the very place they 
were occupying. 

As many as could man the bars sprang to the windlass 
and began to get up the anchor. One hurriedly cast off 
the stops from the furled foresail, while another loosed 
the jib. Then the former was hoisted, and at the same 
instant the cable was announced as u hove short but the 
anchor obstinately refused to break out. Once, twice, and 
again they heaved on it in vain. 

The steady but silent advance of the monster now close 
upon them was awful in its relentlessness, and finally, 
given added strength by the terror of its nearness, the 
straining crew at the windlass made one last effort that 
tore the unwilling anchor from its hold just as the skip- 
per had raised his axe to cut the cable. 

The big jib seemed to run up the stay of its own ac- 
cord, while powerful arms held its clew well over to wind- 
ward. Breeze, who had tugged and strained with the 
others at the windlass until he was dripping with perspi- 
ration, sprang aft to the wheel and rolled it hard over. 
Then slowly, oh, so slowly ! as it seemed to the breathless 
crew, the schooner began to pay off, and then to forge 
ahead. Even then they did not know but that they 
were too late. Already the small drift-ice pushed ahead 


Surrounded by Arctic Ice. 147 

of the berg was grinding against the vessel’s sides, while 
the towering mass was cutting off the wind from her sails 
and leaving her becalmed to await its pleasure. 

It revolved slowly as it drifted, and all at once this ro- 
tary motion opened up to them a deep cleft in its forma- 
tion, through which whirled a sudden gust of wind. As 
it struck the out-spread sails the schooner heeled over be- 
fore it and bounded forward, as though only then awak- 
ened to the consciousness of her danger. 

She just cleared it, and that was all. For her and her 
crew, five little seconds and a cat’s-paw of wind spanned 
the infinite gulf that separates safety from destruction, 
life from death. For a moment they could hardly realize 
they had escaped, and as the monster swept sullenly past 
them, still revolving like a gigantic millstone seeking to 
grind to powder all who dared oppose it, they gazed at it 
in silence and with bloodless faces. 

But the reaction came quickly. The men who fish on 
the Newfoundland Banks learn to forget their perils al- 
most before they have passed. At the hoarse command 
of “ Beady about ! Stand by the jib-sheets !” the crew of 
the Vixen seemed to awaken as from a troubled dream. 

Within fifteen minutes their vessel was again at anchor 
in nearly the same place she had occupied before the berg 
drove them from it. Her sails were furled, and all who 


148 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

could be accommodated at the little mess-table were eat* 
ing, with a relish, the breakfast that the cook had been 
steadily preparing amid all the exciting scenes that had 
just passed. He knew that, to live and to work, men 
must eat, and that so long as the vessel held together and 
floated, it was his duty to prepare food for them. 

The berg that had caused all this trouble and anxiety 
was a solitary rover that had left its frigid companions 
in order to pursue its own erratic course. It was not 
even accompanied by large floe-cakes, but only by quan- 
tities of the small drift or “lolly” ice. This would not 
interfere to any great extent with the handling of the 
trawls, though it would render the work particularly cold 
and disagreeable. 

As the daylight strengthened, however, practised eyes 
on board the Vixen detected a pale glimmer on the north- 
ern horizon that indicated the presence of those vast ice- 
fields that frequently sweep over the Newfoundland 
Banks in the spring of the year. They often carry death 
and destruction to the fishermen and their vessels, always 
bring hard, dangerous work, and threaten a disastrous loss 
of gear. Therefore, on the present occasion the skipper 
hurried the men through their meal, and despatched them 
as quickly as possible in the dories to haul their trawls. 
They were ordered to cut the lines if necessary, and to 


149 


Surrounded by Arctic Ice . 

return to the schooner with all speed the moment the 
close approach of the ice should be indicated by the signal 
of the ship’s flag displayed in the main rigging. 

In the present position of the schooner the trawl be- 
longing to dory No. 6 was at some distance astern of her, 
and our dorymates had a long pull before reaching its 
outer buoy. They worked like beavers in getting the 
trawl aboard ; and as it was nearly bare of fish, the ice 
having seemingly driven them away, they succeeded in 
hauling the whole of it before the recall signal was 
shown. 

Just as he had got in the last anchor, Wolfe, casting a 
glance in the direction of the schooner, observed the flag, 
though there was not now wind enough to flutter it, and 
exclaimed, “ There it is, Breeze ! the skipper’s giving us 
the recall, and he is not the man to do it until the last 
moment. You may count on the ice being close to her 
now, as well as on the fact that we’ve got a stiff pull 
ahead of us to get back in time.” 

And it was a stiff pull. The strong young backs 
straightened out splendidly with every stroke, the tough 
oars bent and rattled sharply against their confining 
thole-pins, and the white water sped away from the prow 
of the old dory, as though she were a racing boat. But 
they had been too heavily handicapped ; the ice had been 


150 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

allowed too great a start, and they were still several lmn 
dred feet from the schooner when a shout from her deck 
caused them to look ^around. 

What they saw made them heart-sick, and for a moment 
their case seemed hopeless. They were already cut off 
from the vessel by several great cakes of ice that were 
grinding and crashing together angrily. Others were 
rapidly drifting into, and narrowing, the open space that 
still remained, and they could not see any chance of ever 
being able to pass this moving, treacherous barrier. All 
at once the loud cries and eager gestures of those on 
board the schooner directed their attention to a buoy ly- 
ing on one of the cakes nearest to them. To their great 
joy they saw that to it was attached a line that was being 
paid out over the stern of the vessel. Somebody had 
been thoughtful enough to make this use of the cake as it 
drifted by. 

Altering their direction slightly, the boys had, in a 
minute more, snatched the buoy from its ice raft, and 
Wolfe was making the line it had brought them fast to 
the rope becket in the bow of the dory. At the same 
moment a shout was heard from another direction. Look- 
ing up they saw another dory still farther off than they 
were, and evidently about to be cut off, not only from 
the schooner but from them, by the cruel ice. 


IN A MINUTE MORE THEY nAD SNATCHED TnE BUOY FROM THE ICE-RAFT 








' 


. 
































































. 










































































- 






















































































































































































Surrounded by Arctic Ice. 15 1 

As quick as thought, Breeze tossed one of their trawl 
buoys, with its line still attached, to the cake of ice that 
had brought help to them from the schooner, and which 
was still within reach. It fell so close to the edge that 
he had to pay out the line most carefully to prevent its 
being dragged off. In a few minutes he had the satisfac- 
tion of seeing the dory pulled alongside of the floating 
cake, and one of her crew step carefully out upon it, and 
walk towards the buoy. 

His weight bore the ice down so that water began to 
flow over its edge ; and just as he stooped to pick up 
the buoy, it floated and eluded his grasp. He made a 
clutch and succeeded in seizing it ; but at the same instant 
his feet slipped from under him, and he plunged headlong 
into the cold waters. 

The cry with which the unfortunate man disappeared 
from view was echoed from the dory he had just left. In 
it Hank Hoffer was now as effectually cut off from the 
schooner as though he were already miles away, instead 
of almost within reach of her. 

For the time being the crew of dory Ho. 6 paid but 
little attention to him. All their energies were directed 
towards saving the man in the water, who had now come 
to the surface, still grasping the buoy. A great cake bore 
down upon him, and threatened to crush him, or at least 


1 5 2 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

to force him under. Fortunately the line by which he 
was held passed over it, and he was able to draw himself 
on to its slippery surface. From it he again went into 
the water, and thus, slipping, scrambling, jumping, and 
swimming, but always clinging to the line, he finally 
reached the dory, cut, bruised, and nearly exhausted. 

Then the dorymates began to look after their own safe- 
ty, for they were still in great danger of going adrift. A 
portion of the line that connected them with the schoon- 
er was under the ice, and might at any moment be cut or 
parted. There was also the danger that the sides of the 
dory might be crushed in or cut through by the heavy 
jagged cakes, some of which were fifty feet wide, and 
from five to ten feet thick. By jumping out on the larger 
cakes, and pulling the boat over them, pushing aside the 
smaller ones, tugging, straining, and working with all 
their might for half an hour, they finally got the line clear 
and above the ice. All this time those on the schooner 
had held it taut. ISTow it was a comparatively easy mat- 
ter to pull the boat, with its brave crew and the man 
whom they had rescued, close under the stern of the 
vessel, and to hoist her clear of the water by the davits. 

Thankful enough were the dorymates to tread once 
more the firm deck of the old Vixen , and hearty was the 
welcome given them by her crew, All the other dories, 


Surrounded by Arctic Ice. 153 

except that which held Hank IToffer, had been got safely 
on board, some with all their trawls, and others with only 
portions of them. The lost dory, with its solitary occu 
pant, had become but a dim speck against the white back- 
ground of ice that now covered the sea as far as their 
sight could reach. The boys barely caught a glimpse of 
it as it was pointed out to them from the deck of the 
schooner before it vanished entirely. They both sprang 
into the main rigging to get another sight of it ; but, 
though they climbed to the mast-head, they could not 
again discover it. They did, however, see several icebergs 
drifting in that direction, and it was with heavy hearts 
and very sober faces that they descended to the deck and 
reported the probable fate that had overtaken their ship- 
mate. He had proved himself their enemy, and even 
among the rougher members of the crew he had made no 
friends. Still he was a human being, who for more than 
a week had formed one of their little community, and 
been thrown into close companionship with them. How 
he was called upon to suffer terribly, and alone, a fate 
that might have overtaken any one of them, and they 
pitied him from the bottom of their hearts. 

With the exception of a few puffy squalls, the morning 
had been without moving air enough to lift the ensign 
that still drooped listlessly from the main rigging, but 


i 54 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

about noon a breeze sprang up from the southward. With 
the first sign of wind the Vixen’s anchor was hove up, 
sail was made, and she began to beat slowly in the direc- 
tion taken by the missing dory, through a lead of clear 
water that had opened through the floe. There was not 
much chance that anything would ever again be seen of 
it or its unfortunate occupant ; but they could not give 
him up without making an effort to save him, and so, for 
several hours, the almost hopeless search was continued. 

Navigation was extremely difficult, for the spaces of 
open water were few and often very narrow. Sometimes 
they led abruptly into ice so closely packed that no 
headway could be made against it, and the schooner barely 
held her own, as it ground and scraped along her sides 
with a force that threatened to cut through even her stout 
planking. 

At length Breeze, who had climbed to the mast-head to 
take a look through the skipper’s glass, reported that he 
could see something black that looked like a man on one 
of the icebergs they had noticed earlier in the day, and 
which they were now approaching. 

After the object had been pointed out to the skipper, 
and he had looked at it long and carefully, he also ex- 
pressed the opinion that it was a man, and ordered the 
schooner to be headed in that direction. Her progress 


Surrounded by Arctic Ice. 155 

was necessarily very slow, and the afternoon was well ad- 
vanced before she reached a broad space of open water, 
beyond which rose the iceberg. It was now not more 
than half a mile from them ; but it was surrounded by an 
apparently impassable barrier of floe ice. This, though in 
motion, was so densely packed along its outer edge that 
the vessel could not be forced into it. Again and again 
was the attempt made, but it only resulted in failure, and 
each successive shock threatened her with irreparable 
damage. 

At length these efforts were abandoned, and the schoon- 
er began to cruise up and down along the barrier, seeking 
for some opening through which she might pass. The 
black object on the iceberg had remained in sight long 
enough for them to be certain that it was a man, but then 
it had disappeared. This disappearance greatly puzzled 
the Vixen's crew. Some of them said he must have 
slipped off the ice into the water, and been drowned, or 
else he would certainly have remained in sight to make 
signals to them. Others thought perhaps the berg had 
swung round so as to hide him from them, and that he 
was unable to reach any point from which he could be 
seen. Among the latter were Breeze and Wolfe, who, as 
time wore on, became very impatient at the delay caused 
by the icy barrier. 


156 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“If we do not get to him soon,’’ said Breeze, “he will 
certainly freeze to death. Wolfe, don’t you think we 
could get our dory across the floe to that iceberg, if we 
should try ?” 

“ You don’t mean to say that you’d be willing to try it 
for the sake of that fellow, do you?” exclaimed his com- 
panion in amazement. “ Why, man, the chances would 
be ten to one, yes a hundred to one, against your ever 
getting back to the schooner again.” 

“ That may all be,” replied Breeze, “ but if they were a 
thousand to one against it I’d rather take the one chance 
than to go off and leave that poor fellow to die there 
without even trying to save him. I believe it can be done, 
and I’m going to ask the skipper to let me go.” 

“ Well,” said Wolfe, “ you are the softest and the plucki- 
est fellow I ever met. I don’t believe the skipper will 
hear of your going, but if he should you sha’n’t go alone.” 

“ I was sure you’d say that !” cried Breeze, “ and I’m 
just as sure that we’ll succeed if we are only allowed to 
try my plan.” 

The skipper hesitated some time before giving his con- 
sent to the scheme proposed by Breeze; but at length, 
finding that no further headway could be made by the 
schooner, he yielded reluctantly, and said they might make 
the attempt. 


Surrounded by Arctic Ice. 157 

The rest of the crew tried to dissuade the boys from 
such a foolhardy undertaking, “ especially,’’ as one of them 
said, “ when the man doesn’t show up, and is probably 
gone long before this.” When they found them deter- 
mined to go, however, they lent them every assistance 
in their power. 

Before starting, both the boys drank a cup of hot coffee 
and ate a hasty luncheon. Into dory ISTo. 6 they put a box 
of provisions, two pairs of blankets, a coil of rope, and a 
hatchet. Their water-keg was already full. The skipper 
promised to remain within sight of that iceberg until they 
returned, or until he knew what had become of them, and 
as they started the crew gave them a hearty cheer. 

They found it hard and tedious work to get their dory 
over the first barrier of ice, which was about a hundred 
yards wide. After that was passed they progressed more 
rapidly, and discovered so many little lanes of open water 
that they reached the berg much more easily than they 
had expected to. 

As they rowed alongside of it they discovered a small 
level place, close to the water’s edge, upon which a land* 
ing could be made. The ends of the berg rose into points 
fifty or sixty feet high, but above this point was a de- 
pression that did not rise more than twenty feet above 
the water. 


158 Dorymotes : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

When they reached this place Breeze said, “ Let me land 
here, Wolfe, and climb up to the top, where I can look 
over, while you stay in the dory.” 

So saying, and taking the hatchet with him, he stepped 
out on the ice, and began slowly to make his way up the 
gentle but slippery incline. As he reached the top he 
stood there for a moment looking around, and then turned 
as though about to call out to his friend. Suddenly he 
seemed to slip, and to Wolfe’s dismay he threw up his 
arms, uttered a loud cry, and disappeared. 


An Ice Cave and its Prisoners . 159 


CHAPTER XII. 


AN ICE CAYE AND ITS PRISONERS. 


T first Wolfe hoped that Breeze had merely slipped 



and fallen, and for a minute waited anxiously for 
him to reappear. Then it occurred to him that his com- 
panion might have slid into the water, and that possibly 
he was even now drowning, or struggling in vain to regain 
a footing upon the treacherous surface. Thus thinking, 
he sprang to his oars, and pulling furiously, soon carried 
the dory to the other side of the iceberg, which was not 
a very large one. To his dismay he could discover no 
trace of his friend even here, and he now began to be se- 
riously alarmed. He could see the whole side of the ice 
island as it rose, glittering and sparkling above him, in 
the light of the setting sun. It shone with all the colors 
of the rainbow, and was coldly, awfully beautiful to look 
upon, but nowhere did it offer to his view the faintest 
trace of a human presence. 

This side was rugged, and so precipitous that it would 
be impossible for any one to gain a foothold upon it from 


12 


1 60 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

a boat, much less from the water; all of which Wolfe no- 
ticed with a feeling of despair. As he examined the frigid 
mass above him more closely he noticed that, near its top, 
there seemed to be several platforms or terraces, and he 
determined to pull back to the landing-place and climb up 
and examine them. Rowing slowly around the other end 
of the berg, and scanning every foot of its surface in the 
vague hope of discovering something, he finally came 
again to the place where Breeze had left him. Here, 
with a heavy heart, he made his preparations to follow 
the course his friend had taken. Hauling the dory par- 
tially out of the water, so that there would be less danger 
of its being crushed by floating cakes, he jammed its 
anchor into a crack of the ice and pulled the anchor rope 
taut. Then, taking advantage of the occasional holes 
Breeze had cut in the ice with his hatchet, he began to 
climb towards the summit of the ridge. 

When at last he reached it he dreaded to look around 
him ; for this was his last hope, and if he should see noth- 
ing of his dorymate from here, he felt that he must in- 
deed give him up for lost. At length he forced himself 
to gaze, slowly and carefully, in every direction about him. 
There was only the ice, the water, the sunset sky, and, 
sharply outlined against it, the Vixen , standing off and 
on beyond the floe, waiting for them. 


An Ice Cave and its Prisoners . 161 

Waiting for them , ancl he must return to her alone. 
This thought broke him down completely, and he groaned 
aloud in his distress. He knew now how strong a hold 
his sunny-faced young dorymate had gained upon his af- 
fections, and feeling that he had gone from his life for- 
ever, the whole world seemed as lonely and dreary and 
cold as the scene around him. In his misery he called 
out, “ Breeze ! oh, Breeze ! come back to me.” 

“Well, I’m coming as fast as I can,” answered a muf- 
fled voice so close to him that he started in affright, and 
came very near rolling down the incline he had just as- 
cended. He trembled so that he could hardly speak ; but 
he finally managed to call out, “ Is that really you, Breeze ? 
And where are you ?” for, as yet, he could neither see his 
friend nor locate the spot from which his voice had come. 

“ Of course it’s me,” answered the voice, “ and I’m 
down here in a hole with poor Hank. I wish you’d fetch 
the rope and throw one end of it down to me, for it’s 
mighty slow work cutting these steps, and I could get up 
by it a good deal quicker. We’ll want it for Hank, any- 
how, because he’s hurt and can’t climb.” 

The crest of the ridge on which Wolfe was seated — for 
he had not dared stand up as Breeze had done — was quite 
narrow, and sloped sharply down the opposite side from 
that up which he had come. This side was wet and very 


1 62 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

slippery, for the afternoon sun had been warm enough to 
melt the surface in places. A few feet below him the 
slope appeared to end with a short upward incline, be- 
yond which the ice again fell away to the water. 

In compliance with his friend’s request, Wolfe hurried 
back to the dory for the rope, with his heart as full of 
joyful emotions as a few minutes before it had been of 
sorrowful ones. He could not yet imagine what had hap- 
pened to Breeze, nor in what sort of a place he was, and 
he hardly cared ; the mere fact that he was alive was suf- 
ficient for the present. 

He afterwards learned that the icy slope down the op- 
posite side of the ridge ended abruptly about two feet 
above the short upward incline that, from his point of 
view, it had appeared to join ; while between the- two was 
a deep, narrow crevice, extending far down towards the 
heart of the berg. This crevice had originally been filled 
with snow, and in the angle between the two slopes there 
had collected, while the iceberg was still a part of some 
Greenland glacier, a bank of arctic sand. Attracting the 
heat of what little sunshine fell upon it, this material had 
gradually melted its way deep into the snow. Then wa- 
ter had flowed into the depression thus made, and moving 
the sand back and forth, had slowly enlarged the hole 
until it had finally become a deep crevice, with smooth 


An Ice Cave and its Prisoners . 163 

walls of glare ice and a sandy bottom. No trap could 
have been better planned, and after waiting perhaps hun- 
dreds of years for its victims, it had caught two in one 
day. It would also have held on to them so long as the 
iceberg continued to float if Breeze had not happened to 
hold a hatchet in his hand when he nearly killed poor 
Hank Hoffer, and frightened as much as he hurt him by 
suddenly sliding down on top of him. He had done this 
without giving the slightest warning of his coming, about 
an hour after Hank had landed at the bottom of the crev- 
ice with a sprained ankle and no hope of ever getting out 
again. 

After the first shock was over, and a few words of ex- 
planation had been exchanged between the two prisoners, 
Breeze had set to work to chop a series of footholds up 
the sides of the crevice, and to gradually make his way 
towards the top. Wolfe had heard the faint clicking 
sound of the hatchet, but imagined it to be the beating of 
small drift-ice against the base of the berg. When in his 
despair he called out the name of Breeze, the latter had 
nearly reached the top of the crevice, and was within 
twenty feet of where his dorymate sat, though still effect- 
ually concealed from his view. 

When Wolfe again returned to the top of the ridge 
with the rope, Breeze had worked his way up so that his 


164 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

head could be seen above the edge of the crevice, and the 
friends gave each other a joyful greeting. After receiv- 
ing the assurance that the other was not hurt, Wolfe said, 
“ Did you say that Hank Hoffer was down there where 
you have just come from?” 

“ Yes, indeed he is, and pretty badly hurt. He is stiff 
with the cold too, and we must get him out as quick as 
we can.” 

“ I don’t see how we are going to do it if he can’t help 
himself,” said Wolfe. “ Yes, I do too,” he added, after a 
moment’s thought. “ But we must work fast, for it will 
soon be dark, and we don’t want to stay here all night. 
You just wait two minutes longer.” 

With this he again made his way to the dory, took the 
anchor from the crack into which he had jammed it, 
thrust the blade of an oar down in its place, and made 
the dory fast to it. Then he carried the anchor to the 
top of the ridge, got the hatchet from Breeze by means 
of the rope which he let down to him, chopped a hole to 
receive a fluke of the anchor on his own side of the ridge, 
made the rope fast to it, and again tossed an end of the 
line to his companion. 

First testing the strength of the rope and anchor thor 
oughly, he slid down to where Breeze was waiting, and the 
dorymates exchanged as warm a hand-clasp as though 


An Ice Cave and its Prisoners . 165 

they had been separated for months instead of min- 
utes. 

All this time poor Ilank had been groaning at the bot- 
tom of the crevice, and calling upon them to hurry. The 
rope was fortunately long enough to reach him, and 
Breeze, again descending to where he lay, knotted the 
end of it under his arms. While he was doing this 
Wolfe cut a few footholds on the face of the slope lead- 
ing to the top of the ridge. Then Breeze came up, and 
the two athletic young fellows drew the almost helpless 
form of their shipmate slowly but steadily to where they 
stood. While Wolfe supported him there Breeze pulled 
himself, by the aid of the rope, to the top of the ridge, 
where he took in the slack of the line and fastened it 
anew to the anchor. Hank being thus secured against 
sliding back into the crevice, Wolfe left him, and joining 
Breeze, they together drew the sufferer to the top of the 
ridge. Slowly and carefully they helped him down the 
opposite side, and at last had the satisfaction of placing 
him safely in the bottom of the dory. 

It was now quite dark, but they could still note the 
position of the Vixen by the light of the “ flare,” that was 
kept constantly burning on board for their guidance. 
They dreaded leaving their comparatively safe position 
and attempting to force their frail craft through the 


1 66 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

masses of moving ice that lay between them and the 
schooner. The thought of spending the night where the/ 
were was, however, still worse, and they decided to try 
and reach her. 

As there was enough open water to row in for a while 
Wolfe took the oars, and Breeze busied himself with the 
rescued man. He rolled him in the blankets they had 
brought, rubbed his hands and limbs briskly, and offered 
him food. Hank declined this, but asked for water, say- 
ing that he was dying of thirst. 

“Why didn’t you get a drink on the iceberg?” asked 
Breeze, in surprise. “ I’m sure there was plenty of water 
there ; or you might have eaten a bit of ice.” At the 
same time he got out their little keg of water and handed 
it to the sufferer. 

“I didn’t suppose an iceberg was made of fresh ice,” 
replied Hank, eagerly seizing the keg and applying his 
lips to the bung-hole for a long drink. The next instant 
he dropped it, spat out the mouthful of w^ater he had 
taken, and sank down in the bottom of the boat with a 
groan. 

“What is the matter?” cried Breeze, picking up the 
keg. As Hank made no answer, he lifted it to his own 
lips and tasted of its contents. It was full of salt water. 

• There was no time then for questions or explanations, 



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An Ice Cave and its Prisoners . 167 

as the floes on either side of them began closing together 
so rapidly that the dory was in danger of being crushed 
between them. The boys sprang from the boat, and 
managed to drag it out on the ice, just as the drifting 
masses met with a shock that ground their edges to 
powder and nearly threw Breeze and Wolfe from their 
feet. 

Then began a struggle similar to that which they had 
gone through in the morning, only with the danger 
increased a hundred-fold by the darkness. Now they 
dragged the dory by main strength over some great cake 
that lay squarely in their way, then, both in the boat, 
they used the oars as poles and pushed it along from 
piece to piece. Occasionally a submerged mass would 
rise beneath the boat, and it was only by the greatest 
activity that they prevented it from capsizing. Several 
times one or the other of them slipped into the icy water ; 
but they always clung to the dory, and managed to pull 
themselves out. 

But for the flare, that continued to blaze brightly from 
the schooner’s *deck, they would have given over the 
struggle a dozen times. Hank could lend them no as- 
sistance, but lay, numbed and stupid, in the bottom of the 
boat, a dead-weight. 

At last, when after a harder struggle than usual, on 


1 68 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

account of their exhaustion, they had again dragged the 
dory out on the ice, Breeze threw himself down in it ex- 
claiming, “ I’m about done for, Wolfe ; and I’m afraid we’ve 
got to give it up.” 

“ I feel the same way myself,” said Wolfe, “ I can’t pull 
another pound.” 

The frigid breath of the ice-fields, penetrating their 
soaked garments, chilled them to the marrow, and they 
shook as with the ague. A short time longer of such 
exposure would have finished the story of these dory- 
mates, and one more tale of death would have been added 
to the long list that saddens the history of the Banks 
fisheries. But their situation was not yet utterly hope- 
less. One brave spirit of that little group was not yet 
wholly prepared to yield itself beaten by the terrors that 
surrounded them. 

After remaining a few minutes motionless and silent, 
Breeze shook off the numbness that was stealing over 
him, and endeavored to arouse his companions. Wolfe 
responded readily to his efforts, but it was a difficult 
matter to rouse Hank Hoffer. When at last he seemed 
able to understand them, Breeze said, 

“We mustn’t give up yet, fellows. The schooner isn’t 
so very far off, and though we can’t drag the dory any 
farther, perhaps if we give a shout all together they 


An Ice Cave and its Prisoners. 169 

may hear it on board and do something for us. The 
wind is blowing that way.” 

Breeze remembered his experience in the seine-boat, off 
the capes of Delaware, and how the combined voices of 
its crew had saved them on that occasion. 

The others were willing to try, and as Breeze gave 
the word they raised a cry so wild and shrill that they 
themselves were startled by it. Again and again they 
shouted until their voices were spent ; but no sound came 
to them in reply. Still they sat shivering in the chill 
wind, and feeling the awful numbness again creeping 
over them, but with their eyes fixed upon the schooner’s 
light, that seemed so near and yet so immeasurably far 
from them. 

All at once Wolfe started up, exclaiming, “ There’s an- 
other light ! see it, Breeze ? A little one, between us and 
the flare. They’re coming for us! They’re coming for us !” 

It was a faint wavering light, like that of a lantern, 
and often, as they watched, it disappeared, but always to 
appear again. Now it seemed to be going away from 
them, and again finding their voices, they raised once 
more the cry for help. 

This time they fancied they heard an answer, and a 
little later were sure of it. Half an hour of alternate 
fear and hope passed, before, guided by their shouts, the 


170 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

rescuing party of four brave fellows from the schooner 
reached them. They had made but slow progress, drag- 
ging their dory over the broken ice, and not knowing but 
that each step might plunge them into the water; but 
never since hearing that first cry for help had they hesi- 
tated for a moment, or thought of turning back. 

The meeting between the rescued and the rescuers was 
too joyful for description ; but there was no time for 
words. The new-comers had found an unbroken floe ex- 
tending from the schooner, which was made fast to the 
outer edge of it ; but there was no certainty that it would 
remain unbroken from one moment to another, and they 
could not hasten back too quickly. 

New strength came to Breeze and Wolfe with renewed 
hope, and they were able to aid in dragging the dories back. 

In less than half an hour later they were once more 
safe on board the Vixen , and the whole crew was striving 
to see who could do the most for their comfort, and show 
them how fully the brave deed they had accomplished 
was appreciated. 

They now learned that ever since darkness set in, those 
who came to their rescue had held themselves in readi- 
ness to set forth the moment they should find out in 
what direction to go, and that their very first cries for 
help were heard and answered. 


An Ice Cave and its Prisoners . 171 

Breeze and Wolfe were readily thawed out by hot drinks 
and blankets, so that they soon fell asleep, to awaken in the 
morning feeling but little the worse for their hardships. 
With Hank Hoffer the case was different. His hands and 
feet were frost-bitten, and besides having a badly sprained 
ankle, he was so prostrated by what he had suffered that 
he was confined to his bunk for many days, and never 
wholly recovered from his terrible experience. 

He never could tell exactly how he escaped to the ice- 
berg, after his dory had been crushed between it and the 
drifting cakes by which he was surrounded. He was 
able, however, to describe in vivid and forcible language 
his joy at sight of the schooner, his horror at losing his 
foothold and falling into the deep crevice while trying to 
signal her, and his fright when Breeze came sliding down 
on top of him. Towards Breeze and Wolfe his gratitude 
knew no bounds. He begged them to forgive him for 
the cruel tricks he had played upon them, and was never 
afterwards tired of sounding their praises. 

In this taste of arctic trials and sufferings the dorymates 
thought they had met with adventures as strange as any 
they were likely to encounter. But their trip was by no 
means ended, and the Banks still held startling experi- 
ences in store for them, as they were to discover ere many 
days had passed. 


172 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LOST IN THE FOG. 

XT' OR several days after that on which Hank Hoffer 
was rescued the wind blew steadily from the south, 
driving the ice-fields far back towards their northern 
home, but bringing in their place dense masses of the 
almost equally dreaded fog. Fog is the ever-present ter- 
ror of the Banks, and hangs over them so constantly as to 
cause the remark to be frequently made that in this lati- 
tude three hundred and sixty-five days out of the year 
are foggy. Of course this is an exaggeration ; but it is 
/ true that hardly a day passes that does not disclose a fog- 
bank rising above the horizon in one or another direction. 

This stealthy enemy is ever lying in wait for the fisher- 
man, and generally surprises him when he is least pre- 
pared for its coming. It swoops down and envelops him 
in its blinding folds when he is out in his dory, and when 
it again lifts, as though to mock him, he finds himself 
alone on the vast waters, with no vessel in sight. It 
steals his gear, and sends his craft drifting aimlessly hith- 


173 


Lost in the Fog . 

er and thither. Above all, it leads swift-rushing steamers 
to where the fishing schooners lie, and causes the great 
ships to spring upon them and crush them down beneath 
iron prows, never to rise again. 

The fog is terrible ; but whether it comes or whether it 
goes, the fish must be caught, for wives and children must 
be fed. So the dories go out from the vessels, and if they 
never return there are others to take their places. So ac- 
customed does he become to its presence that the fisher- 
man hardly gives the fog a thought, until in his turn it 
swallows him up, and he disappears forever. 

The Vixen was now beset by a fog, sometimes so dense 
that it settled down upon the water like a pall. Again it 
would lift, so that her crew were able to set and haul 
their trawls, with some hope of finding their vessel when 
the task was finished. It was dull, dispiriting work, and 
in the midst of it an amusing incident, of which Breeze 
McCloud was the hero, was hailed with delight by his 
shipmates. 

One night they were lying at anchor. The fog had 
lifted to such an extent that it was not thought necessary 
to keep the fog-horn constantly blowing. About mid- 
night Breeze was turned out of his bunk to go on watch. 
He had hardly reached the deck, and was still rubbing 
his eyes, when suddenly he caught sight of a dim light. 

13 


1 74 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

It rose from the mist at about the height of a steamer’s 
mast-head light, and was apparently bearing directly 
down upon them amidships. He made one spring for 
the companion-way and another into the cabin, yelling 
at the top of his voice, 

“ Turn out all hands ! Steamer close aboard !” and 
snatching up the fog-horn, he again rushed on deck, blow- 
ing it furiously as he went, and followed by the startled 
crew. 

Breeze did not even glance at the dreaded light again, 
so intent was he upon getting all the sound he could from 
his fog-horn ; but all at once such a roar of laughter burst 
forth behind him that he dropped the horn and turned 
indignantly to learn what it meant. 

“Blow, sonny, blow!” cried one of the men between 
his shouts of merriment. “ You’ll have to do better than 
that to make the man in the moon hear you.” 

Then poor Breeze realized that what he had mistaken 
for a steamer’s light was indeed the dim and watery 
moon struggling to show itself through the upper edge 
of a fog-bank. There was nothing for him to say or do, 
except to bear as meekly as possible the jokes of his 
companions and the bursts of laughter with which they 
greeted him whenever they met him the next day. 

The trawls were set as usual the following evening, 




1 75 


Lost in the Fog. 

for in spite of the fog the work of fishing was continued 
with considerable regularity, and the next morning dory 
No. 6 went out with the others in quest of its fare. It was 
customary in thick weather, while the dories were absent, 
to keep the fog-horn constantly sounding on board the 
schooner, so that they might be enabled to find her again. 

On this occasion there was such a heavy sea running 
that unusual care was necessary in the management of 
the dory, and its crew were frequently obliged to swing 
her head to it to prevent her from capsizing. After con- 
siderable difficulty they discovered their buoy, and began 
to haul the trawl. In spite of the violent pitching of the 
boat they were conducting this operation successfully, and 
had nearly completed their task when, unnoticed by them, 
as their backs were turned to it, a larger wave than usual 
came rushing towards them. 

It seemed to spring at the deeply laden dory, and lifted 
it so suddenly that Wolfe, who was leaning over the gun- 
wale, was pitched head-foremost into the water. At the 
same instant Breeze, who had been standing up, was 
thrown violently backward against the opposite side of 
the boat, which was probably all that saved it from up- 
setting. As it was, she shipped a quantity of water, and 
this, in addition to the load of fish, sank her far below the 
limit of safety. 


176 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

Her head, which had only been held to the wind by the 
trawl, now swung off, and as Wolfe rose to the surface 
and clutched the stern becket she had turned completely 
around, and was beginning to drift. 

Quickly recovering himself, Breeze went to his com- 
panion’s assistance, and was endeavoring to help him into 
the boat, when Wolfe gave a sharp cry of pain, exclaiming, 

“ I’m caught in the trawl ! One of the hooks is in my 
leg ! It’s dragging me down ! Oh, Breeze, help me !” 

For an instant Breeze was horror-stricken ; but his 
quick wit enabled him to understand the situation at 
once, and also suggested a remedy for it. Wolfe now 
formed the connecting link between the dory and the 
trawl, which alone prevented it from drifting off before 
the wind. The strain on his arms was so great, and the 
pain from the hook in his leg was so intense, that he could 
not keep his hold on the becket more than a minute 
longer. When he should once let go he would instantly 
be dragged down beneath the dark waters. 

While these thoughts were flashing through his mind 
Breeze had picked up the buoy-line, cut it free from its 
keg, and passing the end under Wolfe’s arms and around 
his body, had made it fast to the after-thwart. He thus 
effectually fastened his companion to the dory, and re- 
lieved, in a measure, the strain on his arms. 


177 


Lost in the Fog . 

He next threw off his oil suit, his heavy outer clothes, 
and his boots. Then, standing erect, with his sharp 
sheath-knife held between his teeth, he sprang overboard 
and disappeared, head-foremost, beneath the water, much 
as his dorymate had done a few minutes before. In an- 
other moment the trawl-line holding Wolfe was cut, and 
the terrible strain upon his leg was instantly relieved. 

If Breeze had not been the splendid swimmer that he 
was, and brought up from his earliest boyhood to feel 
almost as much at home in the water as on land, he could 
not possibly have accomplished this feat. Neither would 
he have been able to regain the dory, which, taking a send 
of the sea, was at some distance from him when he again 
rose to the surface. He only reached it after a hard swim, 
and was breathless with his exertions by the time he had 
managed to clamber in over the bow. 

His first act was to lighten it, and cause it to ride 
more buoyantly, by tossing overboard a quantity of the 
fish with which it was laden. Then he helped Wolfe into 
the boat; and though the poor fellow’s face was white 
with the pain he was suffering, he gave no expression to 
it, but at once began to bail out the water that still 
caused them great anxiety. 

While he was thus employed Breeze was hard at work 
with the oars, pulling in what he supposed was the direc- 


178 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

tion of the schooner, and keeping a sharp lookout for any 
waves of unusual size. 

At last, when Wolfe had nearly finished bailing, he 
paused for a moment in his task and said, “ Breeze, it was 
splendid! I don’t believe there was ever a finer thing 
done on the Banks.” 

“ Oh, pooh !” replied the other. “ What would be the 
use of learning how to dive and swim under water if you 
couldn’t do it when it was necessary ?” 

“Yes, I know; it’s well enough to talk about doing 
such things within reach of shore, but out here in the 
middle of the ocean, with a sea like that running, makes 
it a very different matter. I say it was splendid !” 

“ Wolfe, if you knew how like a coward it makes me 
feel now to think of it, you wouldn’t speak of it again. 
I thank God that he put it into my heart, and gave me 
the strength to do what I did. Above all, I thank him 
that you are now with me in this boat, instead of at the 
bottom of the sea ; but I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“ And I say ‘ Amen ’ to your thankfulness with all my 
heart,” replied Wolfe. 

“ By-the-way,” said Breeze, anxious to change the sub- 
ject, “ do you hear anyt hing of the horn ?” 

“ No, I do not, and I don’t think I have heard it since 
we were hauling the trawl,” exclaimed Wolfe, with a 


Lost in the Fog . 1 79 

startled air, while an anxious expression swept over his 
face. “ Let’s listen a minute.” 

Breeze stopped rowing, and they listened until he was 
again obliged to use the oars to head the dory towards 
another big sea that he saw approaching ; but they heard 
no sound, save the moan of the wind and the rushing of 
the waters on all sides of them. 

It came upon them both like a shock, the terrible 
thought that they were lost on that wild sea, and in a 
fog so dense that they could not see fifty feet in any 
direction. Each saw by the other’s face what he was 
thinking, but neither of them had the heart to put the 
thought into words. 

“ I don’t suppose,” said Breeze, at length breaking the 
silence, “ that there’s any use in rowing so long as we 
don’t know in which direction the schooner lies.” 

“ No,” replied Wolfe, “ I don’t suppose there is. “We 
had better make a drogue and get it overboard, to hold 
her to the wind and keep her from drifting as much as 
possible. Then we’ll fix ourselves as comfortable as we 
can, until the fog lifts and we can catch sight of the 
schooner again.” 

Neither of them would admit in words that they did 
not expect the fog to lift shortly, and that the schooner 
would still be in sight when this happened. They both 


180 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

knew, however, that it might enshroud them for days, 
and that they had but a slight chance of ever seeing the 
Vixen again. 

They made a “ drogue,” or drag, by fastening an end 
of the buoy rope to the bow of the dory, and the other 
to a couple of their trawl tubs, which they then dropped 
overboard with the trawl anchor attached, to serve as 
a weight. The tubs filled and sank until their upper 
edges were on a level with the surface of the water. In 
this position they acted as a floating anchor to the dorv, 
which tailed off from them at once and rode head on to 
the wind and sea. 

“ Stow the oars snugly,” said Wolfe ; “ we must not lose 
them whatever happens. Then, I suppose we might as 
well toss the rest of these fish overboard, though it seems 
a pity, doesn’t it ?” 

“ Yes, and I’m afraid we’ll be sorry for it when we get 
back to the schooner ; but here goes,” and Breeze began 
to toss the fish overboard vigorously. 

When this job was finished, and the dory rode the seas 
much more easily than she had done, Wolfe said, 

“Now that you’ve made things snug and ship-shape, 
old man, will you help me a bit with this beastly hook ? 
It’s hurting me more than a little.” 

'“Oh!” cried Breeze in a tone of pitying remorse. 


Lost in the Fog . 1 8 1 

“ Why didn’t you speak of it sooner ? It was awful to 
leave it in there all this time.” 

“ Had too much else on hand. It couldn’t get away, 
and I knew we’d find it right there whenever we got 
ready to attend to it,” said Wolfe, with an attempt to 
relieve the anxiety of his friend by making light of his 
own sufferings. 

Each of these two brave young spirits was intent upon 
presenting a cheerful front to the other, while hiding its 
own anxiety and forebodings, but neither of them was 
for a moment deceived as to the nature of their situation. 

As carefully as possible, Breeze first cut away the small 
portion of line that still remained attached to the shank 
of the hook. Then, after cutting little slits in them and 
clearing them from it, he drew off Wolfe’s wet lower gar- 
ments. The hook was fastened into the calf of the right 
leg, and had torn the flesh cruelly. How, while Breeze 
could, if necessary, bear any amount of pain himself, it 
made him faint to inflict it in cold blood upon others. 
So, when Wolfe said, “ It looks as if you’d have to cut the 
beggar out, old man,” he replied, “ I can’t do it, Wolfe ! 
I haven’t the nerve.” 

a Then I must,” answered his companion ; and without a 
moment’s hesitation he reached down, and with one pow- 
erful wrench tore the hook from his leg and flung it over- 


1 82 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

board. “ That’s a good job quickly done,” he said, 
laughing at the other’s pale face. “ Now if I only had 
something to bind it up with !” 

For a moment they could think of nothing suitable, 
for all their garments were woollen. Then Breeze remem- 
bered his silken neck-handkerchief, and hastily pulled it 
off. As he did so it caught on the slender chain that he 
always wore clasped about his neck according to the 
promise he had given his mother, and the golden ball at- 
tached to it was brought into view. 

Wolfe had never before seen it, and as he tightly band- 
aged his wounded leg he asked Breeze what it was, and 
why he wore it. In answer Breeze told him all that he 
knew concerning the ball, not forgetting the encounter 
with the New York jeweller who had opened it and then 
closed it again without allowing him to look at its con- 
tents. 

Wolfe was greatly interested in all this, and examined 
the locket closely, in the hope of discovering its secret 
fastening, but without success. For some time they occu- 
pied their minds, and kept themselves from thinking of 
their unhappy situation, by speculating as to what it con- 
tained. They wondered who had first clasped the chain 
around the boy’s baby neck, and Wolfe declared that 
Breeze was undoubtedly a lost prince, who would some 


Lost in the Fog. 183 

day come into his kingdom. He begged him not to for- 
get his old dorymate when that happy event occurred. 

The word “ dorymate ” recalled them to their present 
surroundings, and looking up, Wolfe said, “Well, there 
doesn’t seem to be any prospect of the fog’s lifting yet 
a while. I wish it would, though, in time to let us get 
back to the schooner for dinner, for I’m awfully hungry. 
Speaking of dinner, have we got a bite of anything to eat 
besides the raw fish we threw overboard ?” 

At another time Breeze would have laughed heartily 
at this Irish bull, but now. he only answered by going 
to the dory’s little stern locker and drawing from it 
his oil -cloth provision -bag. A glance at its contents 
assured him that they were all right, and he exclaimed, 
joyfully, 

“Here are two dozen large biscuit, and they’ve kept 
dry !” 

“ How about water ?” 

“ I looked after that this morning, and the keg’s full of 
fresh water.” 

“ Then,” said Wolfe, “we’ve every reason to feel very 
grateful that we’re so well off ; and if we only had a com- 
pass we would head for the coast of Newfoundland, and 
row to it, too, barring bad weather and accidents, before 
pur provisions gave out,” 


184 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“Yes,” said Breeze, “we’ve certainly got provisions 
enough to do it with, for if each of us eats one biscuit a 
day, they will last us twelve days.” 

“ Couldn’t we take two a day, and make it six days ?” 
suggested Wolfe. 

“ How would you like to eat three a day, one each for 
breakfast, dinner, and supper, and call it a four days’ sup- 
ply ?” asked Breeze. 

“ Faith ! I believe I could eat a dozen of them now, and 
then wish for the rest without trying, I’m so hungry. 
But say, Breeze, how long would they last us if we took 
three apiece the first day, two the second, one the third, 
and then began and did it all over again ?” 

Thus talking, and in slowly eating two of their precious 
biscuit, they managed to pass several hours, at the end of 
which they were gladdened by a ray of sunlight. The 
fog was lifting. Starting up, they eagerly scanned their 
widening horizon, which now extended for some miles on 
all sides of them. To their bitter disappointment, they 
could see no sign that any other human beings had eyer 
floated on that dreary waste of waters. 

Shortly before sunset the fog settled down again, thicker 
than ever; and lying down in the bottom of their boat, 
the dorymates very nearly abandoned themselves to de- 
spair. Finally, huddling as closely together as possible, 


Lost in the Fog. 185 

for the sake of what warmth they could thus obtain, they 
both fell asleep. 

In his sleep Breeze dreamed that he was sailing a boat 
into Gloucester harbor, but that instead of looking out for 
the familiar landmarks, he was steering her by compass. 
He dreamed this same thing over and oyer, until at last 
he awoke with it strongly impressed upon his mind. 

It was night, and intensely dark, while the wind moaned 
mournfully above the dashing waters. Breeze had no 
idea of the time, nor how long it would be before day- 
light. While he was wondering about this he became 
conscious, to his great surprise, that in his hand he held 
the golden chain and locket that had been about his neck. 
His surprise was, moreover, quickly changed to amaze- 
ment when he felt that the ball was open. 


-• 


1 86 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SECEET OF THE GOLDEN BALL. 

TT seemed to Breeze as though daylight never would 
come, as he lay there holding the open locket in his 
hand and wondering about it. How had it come open ? 
and what did it contain ? He was adrift in a fog, far out 
at sea, in a frail open boat. He was wet, cold, and hungry. 
His situation was about as uncomfortable as can well be 
imagined ; but all this was lost sight of and forgotten in 
the thoughts aroused by that golden ball, which during 
his sleep he must have taken from his neck, and which- 
had so unaccountably been opened. It was the visible 
evidence of the great mystery of his life, that he so longed 
to solve, and in his curiosity he wished for the daylight 
only that he might see what it contained. He hoped 
Wolfe would wake up, that he might talk of all this 
with him; but he would not disturb him, and after a 
while he, too, fell asleep again. 

When Breeze next awoke it was early morning, and 
daylight was sifting faintly through the fog. Wolfe had 


The Secret of the Golden Ball. 187 

been aroused some time before by the pain of his leg. He 
had just finished attending to the wound as well as he 
was able, and was replacing the bandage. 

The moment he noticed that Breeze had opened his 
eyes, he exclaimed, “ Good-morning, dory mate ! We seem 
to be in luck, as usual.” 

“ How ?” asked Breeze, wonderingly. 

“ How ! Why, don’t you notice that the wind has 
gone down and the sea is getting smooth? We have had 
a pretty comfortable night, and I shouldn’t wonder if the 
sun drove away this beastly fog before long, and shone 
out warm and pleasant. Then we must surely sight some- 
thing, out of all the vessels that are cruising on the Banks.” 

“ That’s so !” said Breeze, quite cheered by this hopeful 
view of the situation. Then, bethinking himself of the 
wonderful event of the preceding night, and anxious to 
add his bit of pleasant intelligence, he continued, “ And 
best of all, Wolfe, the ball is open.” 

“The what?” asked Wolfe, greatly puzzled for the 
moment to know what his companion meant. 

“ The ball ! The golden ball that I wear around my 
neck, and that we were looking at yesterday.” 

• “ You don’t mean it !” exclaimed the other, now greatly 

interested. “How did you get it open? What’s in it? 
Where is it ?” 

14 


1 88 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“I don’t know how I got it open, and I don’t know 
what is in it because it was too dark to see ; but here it 
is.” 

With this Breeze withdrew the locket from the bosom 
of his flannel shirt, into which he had instinctively thrust 
it for safe-keeping when he found himself dropping off to 
sleep, and they both bent over it eagerly. 

One half had swung back from the other on a pivot, by 
which the two sections were still held together. After a 
single glance at it, Wolfe gave a shout. 

“ A compass, by all that’s wonderful !” he cried. “ The 
very thing we’ve been wanting, above all others ! Well, 
old man, any one who says we are not in luck now doesn’t 
know what he’s talking about, that’s all !” 

One side did indeed hold a small but perfect compass, 
the daintiest that was ever seen. Its freely moving card 
was a thin plate of gold upon which were enamelled the 
four cardinal points and a coat of arms. The latter con- 
sisted of a blue shield with a diamond, cut in the form of 
a star, upon which the card was pivoted, in its centre. 
On the shield, above the star, and in the lower corners 
were three devices, which Breeze thought might be pyra- 
mids, and which Wolfe called volcanoes. Above the shield 
was a closed helmet, and beneath it, in letters of gold, the 
motto, “ Point True.” 


The Secret of the Golden Ball. 189 

As Wolfe repeated this over to himself, his face wore a 
puzzled look. “ 4 Point True,’ ” he said aloud ; “ I have 
certainly heard that before, and I wonder where ?” Fi- 
nally he satisfied himself that he must have read it in 
some book, and gave the matter no further thought. 

In the other half of the ball was a second golden plate 
on which was enamelled the same coat of arms, with the 
only difference that the central star in this case was formed 
of a pearl. A spring, which they did not discover for 
some time, slipped this plate aside, and in the cavity be- 
neath it the boys saw three tiny locks of hair, of which 
one had evidently been cut from the head of an infant. 
On the under side of the plate was engraved “ Merab to 
Tristram,” and Ruth’s answer to Naomi, “ Whither thou 
goest, I will go.” 

Breeze could not help feeling somewhat disappointed 
when be found that this was all. Although the ball had 
yielded up its secret, it had in reality told him nothing. 
It had merely given a new direction to his curiosity. 
Who were Merab and Tristram ? To whom had the locks 
of hair belonged ? The only satisfactory features of its 
revelation were the coat of arms and the compass. The 
former might at some future time be located, while the 
latter could be immediately used. 

This thought had also come to Wolfe, who had rejoiced 


190 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

at the very first sight of the little vibrating card, and 
who now said, 

“ Let’s have breakfast right off. Breeze, and then start 
for Nova Scotia. I’ve been thinking the situation over, 
and though I believe we are somewhat farther away 
from Nova Scotia than we are from Newfoundland, we’ll 
stand a better chance of falling in with some sort of a 
vessel by steering west than if we headed to the north. 
So what do you say to laying a course due west, and 
sticking to it, taking turns at the oars all day ?” 

“ I don’t care much which way we go,” answered 
Breeze ; “ but I think it will be much better for us to row 
than to lie still, because it will at any rate occupy our 
time and keep us warm.” 

“ All right, then, west it is *, and I wish the cook would 
hurry up breakfast so that we could make a start. I’m 
npt only awfully hungry, but I’m in a great hurry to get 
to Nova Scotia.” 

The cheerfulness and flow of spirits by which this Irish 
lad managed to sustain both his own and his dorymate’s 
courage were wonderful. They never flagged, and from 
the first to the last of that memorable voyage his con- 
stant effort was to make the best of everything, and turn 
every trifling circumstance to account for the purpose of 
provoking a smile or inspiring fresh hope, 


The Secret of the Golden Ball. 191 

The two biscuit which, washed down with a swallow 
of water from the little keg, formed their breakfast, were 
quickly eaten. Then the drag to which they had been 
lying was taken aboard, and seizing a pair of oars, Wolfe, 
who had insisted upon keeping first watch, as he called it, 
began pulling vigorously in the direction indicated by 
Breeze. The latter made himself as comfortable as possi- 
ble in the stern of the dory, with his gaze fixed upon the 
small compass that he held in his hand. 

In addition to his own inclination to look upon the 
bright side of things, Breeze was happily influenced by 
his companion’s cheerful view of their situation, and now 
he said, “ So long as we have lost the Vixen and found a 
compass, what a comfort the fog is !” 

“Is it?” asked Wolfe, in surprise. “Well, I must con- 
fess I had not quite taken that view of it. How do you 
make it out ?” 

“Because it keeps us all the time hoping for some- 
thing to turn up. It would be awfully discouraging 
to be able to see for miles, with nothing but water 
to look at. How we may come upon some vessel at 
any minute.” 

“ That’s so. The skipper was telling the other night of 
some fellows who were out four days in a fog without 
food or water, and who had just given up in despair, 


192 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

when their dory was nearly capsized by drifting afoul of 
the cable of an anchored schooner.” 

“I remember a story my father used to tell,” said 
Breeze, “about two men who were lost in a fog on this 
very Bank. They had been out only about an hour when 
the fog lifted, and they saw the flare their mates were 
burning for them. They rowed for it as hard as they 
could pull, but the schooner was under way, and kept 
just about the same distance ahead of them all night. 
The next day they could still see her, with her flag at 
half-mast for them; but they couldn’t get near enough 
for those on board to see them. After they lost sight of 
her they were out two days longer, both of them bright 
and clear. During that time they sighted and chased 
five more vessels. Then the fog shut down again, and 
an hour afterwards they were nearly run down by the 
schooner that picked them up. Now, if they’d been in 
the fog all the time they would have taken things a 
great deal more easy, and probably got picked up just as 
quick.” 

“Yes,” admitted Wolfe, “that all may be very true; 
but T’m afraid there’s another side to it. Hark ! didn’t 
you hear a whistle?” he exclaimed, resting on his oars 
to listen. 

The next moment it came to them plainly, the hoarse 


193 


The Secret of the Golden Ball ' 

warning whistle of some great steamer. At first they 
could not locate the sound ; but as they heard it again, 
and this time much nearer, they fixed it as coming from 
the direction in which they were heading, and knew that 
it proceeded from some transatlantic liner, bound east- 
ward. Then they became filled with a fever of apprehen- 
sion, of mingled hopes and fears. What if she should run 
them down? What if she should pick them up? What 
if she should pass without seeing or hearing them ? These 
were the questions they asked each other over and over 
again during the few minutes that elapsed before the 
vast, formless object rushed by them still concealed by 
the fog, but so near that they could hear voices from her 
decks. They had not been seen, nor were their frantic 
shouts heeded, if they had been heard. 

In deep, dejected silence they sat motionless, listen- 
ing to the sound of the whistle until it was lost in the 
distance. Then Wolfe said, “That’s the other side to 
it.” 

“ Yes,” replied Breeze, “ and it’s a pretty dark side to 
have to look at too. If the fog had only lifted, ever so 
little, even for one minute, we might be on board that 
steamer safe and comfortable now, on our way to — I 
don’t knew where and I shouldn’t have cared. At any 
rate, we wouldn’t be here, lost, starved, and drifting 


194 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

through a fog-bank.’’ The boy’s tone was very bitter, 
and it showed the heaviness of his heart. 

“ Take a biscuit, old man,” said Wolfe, sympathetically, 
“ it’ll cheer you up.” 

For a moment Breeze tried to look angry, at what he 
considered an ill-timed levity on the part of his compan- 
ion; but the expression of the other’s face changed his 
' mood, and he laughed in spite of his unhappiness. 

“ That’s right !” exclaimed Wolfe. “ Laughing’s a sight 
more becoming to you than crying, and whenever you 
‘ Point True ’ to yourself, it’s plenty of the first and little 
of the last you’ll be indulging in.” 

“But it is hard to bear such a disappointment. Just 
think how near she came to us !” 

“Faith! It might have gone harder with us if she’d 
come nearer. For my part I’m just thankful she didn’t 
run us down entirely. Those same steamers are the ter- 
rors of the Banks. I mind well the last trip I was here 
in the old Walpus. We were lying to an anchor in a fog 
every bit as thick as this, and minding our own business, 
when one of them came rushing down on us. They paid 
no attention to our shouting, or to our horn, and turned 
neither to port nor starboard ; but just came on tooting 
their old whistle for all other folks to get out of their 
way. Well, sir, we were all in the act of piling over the 


195 


The Secret of the Golden Ball. 

stern into the dories when she drove past within a hand- 
shake of the end of our Jib-boom, and we could see the 
scared faces of the people on her deck looking down at 
us. She was that close that the patent log towing be- 
hind her caught on our cable and parted its line. We 
hauled it in the next day when we hove up our anchor. 
No, sir ! none of your steamers for me ! They’re too 
careless and overbearing-like, and I say we’ve just had a 
mighty lucky escape, and should be thankful for it. 
Come, now, stand your watch like a good fellow, and pull 
for Nova Scotia, or for some decent, easy-going sailing- 
vessel that’ll pick us up.” 

So Breeze took a spell at the oars, and thus rowing by 
turn, and telling each other yarns of their own experience, 
or repeating what they had learned from others to divert 
their thoughts, they passed the second day in the dory. 

The fog had not lifted for a single moment since morn- 
ing, and when darkness again shut down upon them it 
still infolded them in its clammy embrace. Although 
the night was calm, they tossed their drag overboard lest 
a wind should rise while they slept. Then, after eating 
their scanty supper of a single biscuit each, they lay 
down, hugging each other closely for warmth, and pre- 
pared to pass the night in such comfort as their circum- 
stances would permit. 


196 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks, 

Before they dropped asleep Breeze heard Wolfe say, as 
though talking to himself, u ¥e must have made some- 
thing over fifty miles to-day, and at the same rate we’ll 
soon reach the Nova Scotia coast now.” 

Breeze smiled at this too evident attempt to cheer him ; 
for he knew, as well as Wolfe, that they had not made 
more than twenty or twenty-five miles at the most, and 
that the coast towards which they were heading was still 
several hundred miles from them. Three more days 
would finish their biscuit at the rate they had been eating 
them, and even now he was so hungry that he felt they 
might as well starve at once as to try and economize them 
any longer. Their fresh water was already half gone, 
and altogether their prospect was a very gloomy one. 

The night passed uneventfully, but before daylight 
Wolfe was awakened by an exclamation of dismay from 
his companion. “What is the trouble?” he inquired, sit- 
ting up stiffly. 

“ The ball is closed,” answered Breeze. 

“ Closed ?” 

“ Yes ; it must have got pushed together somehow 
while I was asleep, and I can’t get it open again.” 

“ And a good job, too,” said Wolfe. “Now we’ll have 
no excuse for rowing this day, and I’m glad; for my 
back’s broke thinking of it.” 


i 9 7 


The Secret of the Golden Ball, 

“ But don’t you want to get to Nova Scotia f ’ 

“ Indeed, I do not ! An out-of-the-way place like that ? 
I’d prefer to be picked up where we are by some craft 
that’ll take us into New York, or Boston, or maybe 
Gloucester itself.” 

An hour later the sun rose, and under its cheerful in- 
fluence the last trace of fog disappeared, and a perfect 
spring morning broke over the sparkling waters of the 
Grand Bank. It was just such a morning as would cause 
the New England birds to break forth in an ecstasy of 
song, and Breeze almost expected to hear them as he sat 
up in the dory and looked around. 

His ears were not greeted by the songs of birds, but his 
eyes were gladdened by a sight so welcome that his first 
joyful exclamation was choked by his emotion. 

Wolfe sprang up in alarm at the sound, only to see his 
friend pointing with trembling finger to the southward. 
There, not more than half a mile from them, he saw a 
square-rigged, deeply laden vessel, rising and falling grace- 
fully on the long swells. 

The next moment Breeze had cut the line that held 
them to their drag with a blow from his sheath-knife, 
and, under the impulse of two pairs of oars, dory No. 6 
was surging over the calm waters as it had never before 
been driven in all its storm-tossed career. 


198 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

The dory mates spoke no word to each other, nor looked 
around, until they paused, breathless and panting, close 
beside the vessel. Although there was not a breath of 
wind, they had feared that somehow she might sail away 
and leave them. Now that there was no danger of that, 
they sat in their boat and gazed at her curiously. Her 
bottom was covered with sea-grass and barnacles, and she 
was weather-beaten to the last degree, though her spars 
were all in place and she still looked stanch and sea- 
worthy. Not a human being was to be seen on board of 
her, nor did their hail receive any answer. 

The strangest feature of the brigantine, for such she 
was, lay in her sails and rigging. Instead of showing a 
cloud of light canvas, as would naturally be expected in 
such weather, she was under a double-reefed main -sail, 
single -reefed fore -topsail, and fore - staysail only. Her 
fore-course was clewed up but not stowed, and the royal 
was furled ; but the topgallant-sail seemed to have been 
blown away, judging from the few streamers of tattered 
canvas that still hung from the yard. Her running rig- 
ging was either hanging at loose ends, or tangled in the 
greatest confusion. To crown all, a ragged American en- 
sign drooped at half-mast, and union down, from her main- 
peak. 

The boys pulled entirely around the vessel several 



JJOT A HUMAN BEING WAS TO BE SEEN ON BOARD OF HER, NOR DID 
THEIR HAIL RECEIVE ANY ANSWER. 






The Secret of the Golden Ball. t 99 

times, wondering at her condition, but still unable by 
their shouts to attract the attention of her crew. On her 
stern they read her name, Esmeralda , of Baltimore. 

Finally Breeze spied a rope hanging over her side near 
the fore-chains, and proposed that they board her by it. 
Having tested it and found it strong enough for their 
purpose, they went up hand over hand. Breeze was the 
first to clamber over the bulwarks and gain her deck. It 
was absolutely deserted, and he walked aft while Wolfe 
was making the dory fast. 

There was something mysterious and awful about this 
apparently deserted brig that caused Breeze to shiver and 
gaze about him apprehensively. He walked as far aft as 
the quarter-deck, and as he gained it a gaunt, pale-faced 
man came slowly up the companion-way leading down 
into the cabin, and stood looking at him. Breeze, too, 
stared for a moment, and then sprang towards the trem- 
bling figure. 


200 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 


CHAPTER XV. 


A WONDERFUL MEETING. 


5 Breeze came towards him, the white-faced man in 



the companion-way, who was so weak and emaciated 
that he seemed to have just arisen from a sick-bed, tried 
feebly to wave him back. The effort was made in vain ; 
for the next moment the boy had sprung to where he 
was standing, thrown his arms about his neck, and, half 
laughing, half crying in his excitement, was exclaiming, 

“Father! oh, father! We knew you weren’t dead. 
We knew you’d come back to us — mother and I did !” 

“ Gently, lad, gently. I’m not quite steady on my pins 
yet, and if you don’t have a care you’ll pitch me down 
the steps,” answered Captain McCloud, trying to speak 
calmly and to quiet the excited boy. But tears stood in 
his eyes, and directly his weakness had mastered him. 
He cried out, brokenly, 

“ God bless you, Breeze ! God bless you, my boy ! I’d 
thought never to see you again, and in my heart I’d bid- 
den you good-by, mother and you. But I wasn’t recon- 


A Wonderful Meeting. 201 

ciled to it. I couldn’t die without seeing you. You’d not 
ask it, lad. You’ll not leave me again to the fever, will 
you ?” 

Then, overcome by his emotion, the man who had been 
so strong, but who was now so weak and wellnigh help- 
less, bowed his head and sobbed like a child. 

This pitiful sight, and the piteous appeal just made to 
him, almost unnerved Breeze, but he controlled himself by 
a strong effort, and led his father to a seat, at the same 
time speaking soothing and loving words to him. 

“ No, father,” he said, “ of course I’ll not leave you. 
I’ve come to stay with you, and take care of you, and 
carry you into port, where mother is waiting for us. 
Only you must hurry and get well, for it would never do 
to go back to her sick and looking like this, you know. 
It would frighten her to see you so.” 

Just then, walking stiffly on account of his wounded 
leg, Wolfe came aft in search of Breeze, and was filled 
with amazement at what he saw. For once his ready 
tongue failed him, and he stood staring at the little group 
in silence. He wondered what could have affected them 
so deeply, and if they had ever met before, or whether he 
were not witnessing the effects of a mild species of insan- 
ity, as exhibited by the stranger. 

“ At any rate,” he said to himself, “ I’ll not interfere 

15 


202 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

with them, for Breeze seems to have a quieting way with 
the old gentleman, and maybe hearing another strange 
voice might send him off again.” 

All at once his attention was attracted by the sudden 
appearance of the most uncouth and altogether peculiar 
human face he had ever seen. The head to which it be- 
longed had just been lifted cautiously above the cabin 
companion-way, and the great eyes, which seemed to 
Wolfe to be wholly white, were rolling wildly at the 
sight of the strangers. The face was the color of black 
ashes, the flat nose expanded into a pair of enormous nos- 
trils, while the lips were of unusual thickness, even for 
a full-blooded negro. This strange face was set off, and 
in a manner overshadowed, by a pair of most remarkable 
ears. Not only were they large, but they projected al- 
most at right angles from the head, which gave them the 
appearance of always being pricked forward with an air 
of extreme attention or curiosity. Above and in front of 
these the head was covered with a thick growth of kinky 
hair, which had been for so long brushed, pulled, or other- 
wise trained forward that it surrounded the face like a 
sort of a furry hood. On account of it some wag in the 
far-away country from which this odd-looking individual 
came had called him “ Nimbus,” and this name had clung 
to him ever since. He was so short as to be almost a 


A Wonderful Meeting . 203 

dwarf, but his body was thick-set, and powerful enough 
to belong to a giant. The length of his arms was extraor- 
dinary, and so was the size of his feet, but his legs were 
so ridiculously short that he waddled rather than walked. 
He was as strong as two ordinary strong men, and at the 
same time he was tender-hearted, obliging, good-natured, 
a fair sailor, and a capital cook. He was a Guinea negro, 
from the west coast of Africa, but had passed the greater 
part of his life in the galleys of sailing-vessels, and had 
thus visited most of the principal ports of the world. He 
was fond of occasionally returning to his own country, 
which he managed to do about once in every two or three 
years. Such was the individual who now appeared at the 
top of the companion-ladder, and exclaimed, 

“ T’ank de good Lord, gemmen, you’s come at las’ ! 
Me an’ de cap’n, we’se been habin’ a mons’rous hard time, 
an’ we’se mos’ gib up. You mus’ scuse me, gemmen, fur 
not bein’ on de deck to receib you proper an’ ship-shape, 
but I ain’t had no sleep fur more’n a week, an’ I jus’ 
takin’ a nap. You see, fus’ de port watch on deck all 
night, den de cook he busy waitin’ on de cap’n all night, 
den de starbor’ watch he up all night, den de fus’ ossifer, 
den de secon’ ossifer, dey don’ get no sleep all night, an’ I 
is all ob um. Yes, sah, ole Him he ebberyt’ing but cap’n 
ob de Esmeral now. De res’ all dead an’ go oberboard. 


204 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

De feber catch um. Sometime one, sometime two, t’ree 
togedder. De las’ one, he de fus’ mate, die more’n t’ree 
day. De cap’n here, he mos’ die, but ole Mm pull um 
troo ; couldn’ be lef’ alone nohow. Where you’ ship, eh ?” 

As he asked this question Nimbus looked around with a 
perplexed air, in search of the vessel from which he sup- 
posed these strangers must have come. 

Wolfe was delighted with this odd character, and now 
glad of a chance to use his tongue, he told their story as 
briefly as possible, and ended by saying that they were 
awfully hungry. 

Nothing pleased Nimbus more than a chance to cook 
for strangers ; and, with a broad grin on his hooded face, 
he waddled away towards the galley, saving, 

“ Dreckly, gemmen ! dreckly ole Nim get you men- 
s’ rous fine breakfus.” 

In the mean time Captain McCloud had recovered his 
composure, and now, to Wolfe’s amazement, Breeze intro- 
duced him as his father. At the same time he said, 
“Wolfe Brady is my dory mate, father, and next to you 
and mother, my dearest friend. We haven’t known each 
other very long, but what we’ve been through with has 
made us pretty well acquainted.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Wolfe, “we met only about three weeks 
ago, but in that time your adopted son has twice saved 


ME AN’ DE CAP’N, WE’S BEEN HABIN’ A MONS’ROUS HARD TIME 















A Wonderful Meeting . 205 

my life at the risk of his own, and we have been in some 
rather tight places together. I don’t mind saying, now 
that it is all over with and we are landing on a good 
solid deck once more, that drifting around in that dory, 
through the fog of the last two days, was about the mean- 
est fix of them all, and I hadn’t much hope that we were 
going to get out of it either. I’d go through with all its 
suffering and anxiety again, though, for the sake of being 
present at such a wonderful meeting as this. I never 
heard of anything like it.” 

“It is truly a wonderful meeting,” replied Captain 
McCloud, “ and there have got to be a great many ex- 
planations made before we shall understand how it was 
all brought about. Certainly we have been guided in mar- 
vellous ways. You said your mother was well, Breeze ?” 

“ Yes, sir, quite well,” answered Breeze, a and looking 
for you to come in at any time.” 

“ So she hasn’t given me up yet ! Bless the little wom- 
an! Well, there’s a chance of getting there now. I 
didn’t think there was any hope of it three days ago, 
when the mate died, and left Nimbus and me alone on the 
old brig, and I too weak to lift a rope’s end.” 

“ Do you mean to say, father,” exclaimed Breeze, who 
had not comprehended the true state of affairs before 
this, “ that you two are the only ones left aboard?” 


206 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Yes,” replied the captain, sadly, “we have buried all 
the rest, and are the only survivors of a crew of twelve 
souls.” • 

“ That’s the reason, then, you’re under such short sail.” 

“Yes, she was got under this canvas in a blow, two 
weeks ago, while the mate and two others of the crew 
were alive, and still able to work. Since then there has 
not been force enough on board to do anything with 
them. Nimbus is as strong as an ox, and he can manage 
the head-sails alone. I believe he got the course clewed 
up too ; but the poor fellow has had a hard time trying 
to steer, cook, wait on me, keep a* lookout, set the lights, 
ring the fog-bell, bury the dead, and in fact do all the 
work of twelve men. He fell asleep last night on the 
cabin floor, utterly exhausted. This morning I was go- 
ing to try and shift foy myself, and let him have his sleep 
out. I was about to look for something to eat when you 
came aboard. I’m feeling hungry for the first time in 
weeks.” 

“ Faith, sir !” cried Wolfe, “ it must be catching. I’m so 
hungry myself that if starving’s any worse it would take 
a wiser man than I am to point out the difference. And 
to think, Breeze, of the elegant biscuit we left behind in 
the dory ! If we’d only eaten them yesterday, and had 
the comfort of them ! Never mind, we’ll have them up 


A Wonderful Meeting. 207 

after a while for a dessert, like, for of all the sea-biscuit 
ever I tasted those have the finest flavor. But here comes 
breakfast now, praised be the cook !” 

Nimbus was going to carry the breakfast down into the 
cabin, but Captain McCloud said they had better eat on 
deck, on account of the fever that had been in the cabin. 
“ I tried to warn you, Breeze, against coming too close to 
me when I first saw you,” he added, “ but you didn’t seem 
to pay any attention.” 

“ As if I could have, father, when I was so surprised and 
so happy !” replied Breeze, reproachfully. 

Never had a meal tasted better, or been more thorough- 
ly enjoyed by the dorymates than this one, and it seemed 
as though they could not stop eating. Even Captain 
McCloud developed a wonderful appetite for a sick man. 
He ate so heartily that Nimbus, who waddled around 
them, his face beaming with pleasure, as he brought them 
this thing or that, began to grow somewhat anxious and 
exclaimed, 

“Take care, cap’n; you’ ’tomach’s powerful weak yet, 
an’ yon mus’n’t s’prise um too much !” 

“Which are you now, Nimbus, doctor or cook?” asked 
Captain McCloud, smiling at the faithful fellow’s anxiety. 

“ I’se bofe, cap’n. De ship’s doctor and de ship’s cook 
am de same. P’r’aps de cook tell you eat, an’ de doctor 


208 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

tell you not eat. You min’ um bofe, den you all right. 
You min’ de cook, you eat too much. Berry bad! You 
min’ de doctor, you eat too little. Berry bad too ! You 
min’ ole Mm, you all right. Berry good !” 

Wolfe was immensely amused at all this, and the ne- 
gro’s comical appearance, together with his earnest man- 
ner, caused the young Irishman to roar with laughter. 
He declared that Mmbus had more sense in his woolly 
head than half the white folks he knew, and that if he 
were as good a doctor as he was a cook, he ought to be a 
member of the Royal College of Surgeons. 

“ Don’ know nuffin ’bout no surgins, sah,” replied Mm- 
bus, showing the ivory of his teeth in a broad grin, and 
highly flattered by this praise ; “ but if de young gem- 
man’s ready for anodder cup ob coffee, I’se got um a-bilin’ 
in de camboose.” * 

“ Will I have another cup of coffee ? Of course I will ! 
It’s the best I ever tasted. I tell you what, Breeze, there’s 
nothing like drifting around a few days without anything 
to eat to make a fellow appreciate a meal like this.” 

“We had the sea-biscuit,” said Breeze. 

“ Yes, sea-biscuit ! But what did they amount to ? Dry, 


* Camboose or caboose. Both are used in referring to a ship’s galley, 
or place for cooking. Caboose is, however, the more common expression. 


A Wonderful Meeting . 209 

tasteless things ! I’d almost as soon eat so many chips,” 
exclaimed Wolfe, in a scornful tone, as he finished the 
last mouthful of a hot buttered roll. 

“ Then you are not going to have them up for a sort of 
a dessert ?” 

“ Dessert ! I should say not. I hope I’ll never have to 
see one, much less eat one again. They would always 
remind me of drifting through a fog -bank in an open 
dory.” 

All of which goes to show how very differently a hun- 
gry man and a well-fed man may view the same object. 

The sea still remained unruffled by a breath, and after 
breakfast Captain McCloud said, “ So long as there’s noth- 
ing we can do until we get some wind, we’ve a chance 
for a yarn. If you’d like to hear about it I’ll tell you 
how I happen to be aboard this brig, and how she got 
into the sad condition you see her in now.” 

As both Breeze and Wolfe expressed the strongest de- 
sire to hear the captain’s story, he related it to them as 
follows : 

“ You remember, Breeze, when I left home in the old 
Sea Robin last October for the Banks I said that if all 
went well I’d be back in time for Christmas ?” 

“Yes, sir, I remember.” 

“Well, we made a fair trip, but did not fill up as fast as 


210 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

I had hoped we would, so that it got to be pretty near 
Christmas-day before we saw our way clear to picking 
up our anchor and heading for Gloucester. By-the-way, 
have any of the Robiris crew ever turned up ?” 

“ No, sir ; not one of them. You were reported as seen 
on the 15th of December, hut since then not a word has 
come* from you until this day.” 

“ Poor fellows! they’re long since gone, then. Well, as 
I was saying, we were all ready to start for home the day 
before Christmas, when there came on such a gale of wind 
as I’ve rarely seen in these latitudes. By night it was a 
hurricane, and such a sea was running that it seemed as 
though each wave must swallow the schooner as it came 
| rushing down on her. We were hove-to under a three- 
reefed foresail, and the riding-sail with a bag-reef tied in 
it. About nine o’clock in the evening, I’d been on deck 
so long, and was so drenched and chilled, that I stepped 
into the forecastle to get a cup of coffee. There was one 
other man there, poor Dick Simonds — you remember him, 
Breeze — and the cook. The rest were either on deck or 
in the cabin. 

“I had just braced myself between the foremast and 
the edge of a bunk, and was reaching for the coffee, when 
the vessel seemed to give a great leap in the air. When 
she dropped it was on her beam ends, and I could feel 


A Wonderful Meeting . 2 1 1 

her settling down. The cook got out someway, how I 
don’t know ; but Dick was met by the water pouring in 
the companion-way. He pulled the slide to keep it out, 
thinking she’d right in a minute if she didn’t fill first. 

“ At the first shock I was so braced that, lying on my 
back as I was, I couldn’t move, and when I did get right 
side up, there we were, Dick and I, shut up like two rats 
in a trap, and the schooner was bottom side up. 

“ Dick stood it as long as he could, which I suppose was 
some time the next day. By then it had got so quiet 
overhead that we judged the storm had gone down. At 
the same time we knew our air must be escaping, for we 
could feel the water slowly but surely rising in the fore- 
castle. The rats were becoming troublesome, too, and* 
swarming over us. Though we couldn’t see them, we 
managed to catch and drown quite a number of them. 

“At last Dick said he couldn’t die but once anyhow, 
and that he was going to make a try for one more breath 
of fresh air and one more sight of God’s blessed daylight. 
He succeeded in smashing off the companion-way slide, 
and a faint light came in through the water, so we knew 
it was day. I didn’t remember till afterwards that it was 
Christmas-day, and I’m glad I didn’t. 

“ Dick’s plan was to dive through the opening with the 
hope that he’d clear the rigging and sails underneath it 


2 1 2 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

some way or another. I tried to dissuade him from trying 
it, and pointed out how slim his chance was ; but he was 
bound to go. He said it was better to drown at once and 
have it over with than to stay in there and meet a slow 
death along with the rats. He stripped off his clothes so 
as to have a better chance of swimming, wrung my hand, 
and said, ‘ Good-by, skipper. If I get out, you’ll hear me 
pounding. If you don’t hear anything you’ll know what’s 
happened.’ Then he drew in a long breath, and made a 
dive for the hole. He got through it, I know, for I saw 
the ray of light darken and then come again ; but I didn’t 
hear a sound from him afterwards, though I listened for 
more than an hour. 

“ But hello, boys ! here comes a puff of wind and there’s 
more behind it. If you and Nimbus can manage to get 
some sail on the old craft we will make a start for home, 
and I’ll spin you the rest of my yarn some other time.” 


Navigating the Brig . 


213 


CHAPTER XVI. 

NAVIGATING THE BRIG. 

f T'HE brigantine, on which our dorymates now found 
themselves shipped as able seamen under the com- 
mand of Captain McCloud, had been almost left to her- 
self for nearly two weeks, during which time the current 
of the Gulf Stream had carried her far to the northward 
of her course. No observations had been taken on board 
in all this time, and the dense fog, through which the ves- 
sel had been drifting for the past four days, would have 
effectually prevented this work even had Captain McCloud 
been strong enough to perform it. He was therefore not 
surprised to learn from the boys that he was now on the 
Grand Bank, but he determined to try and take an obser- 
vation at noon that day, and discover their exact position. 

The promise of wind that interrupted the captain’s 
story was fulfilled by a steady breeze from the southward, 
which, as their general course was westerly, was favor- 
able and satisfactory. While the captain took the wheel, 
Nimbus and the boys hoisted the jib, got the foresail 


214 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

loosed and sheeted home, shook the reefs out of the fore- 
topsail, swayed up the heavy yard by means of a winch, 
and set the royal. They got one reef out of the main- 
sail without much trouble, but when it came to the sec- 
ond they found it so difficult to hoist the great folds of 
heavy canvas and its weighty spar that the boys became 
wholly exhausted with their efforts, and even the enor- 
mous strength of Nimbus was exerted to its utmost. 
After bracing the yards, trimming the sheets of the head- 
sails, and even getting in a bit of the main-sheet, they set 
to work overhauling the running rigging, and bringing 
order out of its confused tangle. 

At this last work Wolfe, having sailed before the mast 
on a square-rigged vessel, was more at home than Breeze, 
but the latter was quick to comprehend, and so learned 
easily ; for a ready comprehension is more than half of 
learning. While the boys w T ere thus employed Captain 
McCloud called Breeze to take the wheel, as it was nearly 
noon, and time to take his observation. Fortunately, 
amid all the trouble and disaster that had overtaken the 
brig, her chronometer had not been allowed to run down, 
and with the sextant, and other instruments belonging to 
her late captain, it was still in a serviceable condition. * 

Bringing the sextant on deck, Captain McCloud gazed 
through it at the sun, as reflected in a small mirror, until 


2I 5 


Navigating the Brig. 

it had reached its greatest altitude and stood exactly 
above the meridian, or, in other words, until it was noon. 
By looking at the chronometer, which was set to Green- 
wich time, the difference between the noon where they 
then were and Greenwich noon was found to be three 
hours and twenty-six minutes, or two hundred and six 
minutes. As the earth revolves from west to east at the 
rate of one degree — which at the equator is sixty miles — 
every four minutes, the whole number of minutes divided 
by four gave fifty -one and a half, or 51° 30', as the longi- 
tude of the brig west from Greenwich. 

The latitude of the place — its distance north or south 
from the equator — was obtained by another observation 
of the sun, taken with the sextant, for the purpose of 
finding the angle between it and the zenith, or point di- 
rectly overhead. A glance at the Nautical Almanac 
under the date of that day, and a minute’s figuring, gave 
the required result. The latitude thus found was 43° 37', 
and of course, being north of the equator, it was north 
latitude, or 43° 37' north. 

Having obtained these two figures, Captain McCloud 
got out a chart of that portion of the Atlantic, and draw- 
ing on it a fine north and south line through meridian of 
longitude 51° 30' west, and a delicate east and west line 
to indicate parallel of latitude 43° 37' north, he made a 
16 


216 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks, 

small cross at their point of intersection, and showed it to 
Breeze as the position of the brig at that moment. It was 
very near the southern point of the Grand Bank and al- 
most due east from Gloucester, but over eight hundred 
miles from that port. 

“ There !” said Captain McCloud when he had finished 
these operations, in all of which Breeze had been greatly 
interested. “ If we steer due west, and hold this wind, we 
ought to sight Sable Island by day after to-morrow, and 
run into port inside of three days more. How would that 
suit you, my boy ?” 

“ It seems as though I couldn’t wait for the time to 
come, father. Won’t it be glorious to sail into Gloucester 
harbor and take everybody by surprise? But, father, 
while we are on this cruise I wish you would teach me 
something of navigation. I never saw an observation 
taken before. They don’t take them on board fishing 
schooners, do they ?” 

“Not often. Most fishing skippers trust to their lead, 
log, and compass. They can generally tell by the sort of 
bottom the lead brings up where they are. You have 
often, I dare say, noticed skippers examining the sand 
and shells that stick to the tallow in the bottom of the 
lead.” 

Breeze said he had, but that he should think it would 


Navigating the Brig. 2 1 7 

be pretty hard to remember what the whole bottom of 
the ocean was made of. 

“We don’t try to,” laughed his father, “we only re- 
member what sort of material forms a few of the princi- 
pal banks and reefs. For the rest we examine the charts, 
where it is all laid down. Now I am going to show you 
an old-fashioned-log, and how to use it. It is the only 
one I can find aboard, though many vessels nowadays 
use patent self-registering logs.” 

“ Of course I have often heard of heaving the log,” 
said Breeze, casting an eye aloft at the sails, then glancing 
at the compass, and giving the wheel a spoke or two to 
keep the brig on her true westerly course, “ but I never 
knew exactly how it was done.” 

Captain McCloud called upon Nimbus to bring him the 
log and the glass, and made ready to use them. The log 
was a triangular piece of thin board, having its base round- 
ed and weighted with lead. Three short lines extending 
from the three corners fastened it to the log-line, much as 
a kite is hung. The log-line was about a thousand feet 
long, and had a number of red rags, or “ knots,” tied to it, 
at distances of fifty-one feet apart. Each of these long 
spaces was divided into ten short spaces, called “ fathoms,” 
by bits of leather twisted into the line. 

The* glass, which was to mark the time of the log’s run- 


218 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

ning, was shaped like an hour-glass, but was much smaller, 
and the sand contained in it occupied only half a minute 
in running from one end to the other. Now, half a min- 
ute is the one hundred and twentieth part of an hour, and 
fifty-one feet is the same portion of a nautical mile, which 
is 6120 feet, or 840 feet longer than a geographical or land 
mile. Thus, when we say that a vessel sails six knots (or 
miles) an hour, we mean that six knots, or three hundred 
and six feet, of the log-fine ran out in half a minute. The 
log-line is wound on a reel that turns very easily. 

In the present instance Nimbus dropped the log into 
the water over the lee quarter of the brig, and held the 
reel in his hands. When the first fifty feet, which is called 
the “ stray-line,” and is sufficient to carry the log clear of 
the vessel’s eddy, had run out, and Nimbus saw the first 
red rag touch the water, he sang out, “ Turn !” Captain 
McCloud turned the half-minute glass, so that the sand in 
it began to drop to the other end, and answered, “Done !” 
The instant it stopped running he cried, “ Stop !” and Nim- 
bus held the reel, so that no more fine should run out. 

“ Seben knot, five fadom, sah,” he reported to the captain. 

“Very good,” said the captain; “reel in.” Then to 
Breeze and Wolfe he said, “ That shows that we are run- 
ning at the rate of seven and a half knots, or miles, an 
hour. By heaving the log every hour, and keeping note 


2I 9 


Navigating the Brig. 

of all the courses steered, we shall not only know pretty 
nearly the distance run, but can determine our position at 
the end of each sea, or nautical, day, which is at noon. 
This is called ‘ dead-reckoning,’ and is useful as a check 
on observations, and also when on account of cloudy 
weather no observation can be taken. Of course, for such 
reckoning we must have some fixed point to start from, 
or ‘ point of departure,’ as it is called. Ours in the pres- 
ent case is the point, back here a few miles, that we es- 
tablished by finding its latitude and longitude, and mark- 
ing it on the chart. 

“ There is one more thing to be thought of in our dead- 
reckoning, and that is the leeway. This may be caused 
by ocean currents, or by a beam wind, which not only 
acts upon the sails, so as to force the vessel ahead, but to 
a certain extent drives her sidewise. This must be al- 
lowed for, and every captain must use his own judgment 
to determine what leeway his vessel is making, and how 
much her course should be altered to allow for it. Now 
I am going to allow a couple of points for leeway, and in- 
stead of keeping her due, west, Breeze, you may make it 
west-south-west.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir !” answered Breeze, promptly ; “ west-sou’- 
wes.t,” and he altered the brig’s course slightly in obedi- 
ence to these instructions. 


220 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ At the same time,” continued the captain, “ we shall 
mark the course on the chart, as though we were heading 
due west.” 

All this had been so interesting to the young sailors 
that, though already quite hungry again, they were almost 
sorry to hear Nimbus announce dinner just at this point. 

After dinner, and after Captain McCloud had rested 
for an hour in the cabin, the boys asked him to tell them 
how he escaped from his awful position in the forecastle 
of the capsized Sea Bobin , and of his experiences, since 
that time. 

“ Well,” he replied, “ of course I will tell you the whole 
story; but I hate so to think of that time that I shall 
make my yarn as brief as possible.” 

“You left off,” said Breeze, “just where poor Dick 
Simonds had dived out of the forecastle, and you didn’t 
hear anything more of him.” 

“Yes, I remember. Well, as you can imagine, I felt bad- 
ly enough in that place, all alone, with the water steadily 
gaining on me, and not the faintest hope of escaping. I 
would have followed Dick Simonds in a moment, but that 
I knew there was no chance of getting out that way. To 
do so would simply have been to commit suicide, and that 
has always seemed to me a pretty mean and cowardly 
way of escaping trouble. 


Navigating the Brig . 221 

“ When we were first shut in there we could sit on the 
edge of the lower bunks ; but before Dick left the water 
had risen so that we were sitting in it, and I soon had to 
stand on the bunks to keep out of it. It must have been 
night again, for no ray of light came in through the 
broken hatch, when I found the water s<f deep that I was 
obliged to climb up on the foremast, and sit there with 
my head between two of the bunks on the upper side. I 
knew this was the last move I could make, and I fully ex- 
pected to die there. I had no way of knowing how long 
I sat there ; but it seemed like many hours, and doubt- 
less was. 

“All of a sudden, I seemed to hear faint, far-away 
voices, then some heavy object struck the hull of the 
schooner, and directly I heard footsteps, as though men 
were walking upon the bottom above me. I nearly suffo- 
cated in my efforts to shout ; but somehow I couldn’t 
utter a sound. I don’t know whether it was from excite- 
ment or weakness, but my voice had left me. Then I 
tried to make them hear by pounding with my fists on 
the planking overhead ; but though I kept it up until my 
hands were bleeding and numb, the sound did not reach 
them. At last I ceased to hear the footsteps, and imagined 
that the men, having satisfied their curiosity, were going to 
leave, which, as I afterwards found out, was the case. 


222 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“ At that moment I thought of my watch, which was 
still in my pocket, and which, as you know, Breeze, had a 
very heavy silver case. Pounding on the planking with 
it, I succeeded in making a sound that attracted their at- 
tention just as they were about to pull away. I never 
stopped my pouncing for a moment until somebody sung 
out, ‘ Hello in the schooner ! Is anybody inside there V 

“ I found voice then to answer that I was in there all 
alone, that the water had nearly reached me, and to beg 
them not to go away without trying to do something for me. 

“ ‘ All right, shipmate,’ came the answer ; ‘ we won’t 
leave you as long as there’s a chance of saving you. You 
may count on that. We are only going for some tools to 
cut a hole with, and will be back in a few minutes. So 
keep up a good heart.’ 

“ I heard them go away and then return again ; and 
by rapping on the planking with my watch, I managed to 
show them a place between two ribs where there was no 
inside sheathing. Here they began to cut, after asking 
me how thick the planking was. They did not break 
through in any one place until they had cut very nearly 
through all around, for fear of making holes out of which 
the air would rush. In that case, you see, the schooner 
would quickly sink, taking me with her. 

“ At last they sang out for me to keep from under, as 


223 


Navigating the Brig. 

they were ready to break in. Then came three or four 
quick blows, a section about two feet square was crushed 
in, and somehow I got out through the opening. I think 
I must have been almost shot out by the confined air that 
rushed out with a roar. At any rate, there was barely 
time for the men to drag me into their boat and push 
back a few yards from the wreck when she sank like a 
stone. The boat was spun around and around like a straw 
in the vortex that it made, and for a moment they were 
afraid that it was going to be sucked under. I knew 
nothing of this until afterwards, for I became unconscious 
the moment I got into the fresh air and out of the foul 
gases I had been breathing so long. When I recovered 
I was lying in a berth in the Esmeralda's cabin.” 

“ The Esmeralda's cabin!” interrupted Breeze. “Was 
it this very brig, father ?” 

“ Yes ; I was lying in the cabin of this very brig, which 
was bound for the west coast of Africa, with a cargo of 
salt fish from the Provinces. It seemed that, while lying 
becalmed that morning, they had drifted close to the 
wreck of the Sea Robin , and the mate, with a couple of 
men, had boarded it out of curiosity. They had got into 
their boat again to leave, without a suspicion that any- 
body was in her, when they heard the noise I made 
pounding with the old watch. The men said it was only 


224 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

rats, and wanted to go on ; but the mate insisted on find- 
ing out what it really was. 

“ All hands, from the captain down, did everything for 
me ; but it was a long time before I recovered from the 
horror of those two days shut up with the rats in that 
wreck. I was always on the lookout for some vessel on 
which I might get a passage to the United States, but w r e 
only spoke two on the whole voyage. One of these was 
bound for South America and the other around the Horn, 
so I stuck by the brig. 

“We made a quick run out, discharged our cargo 
promptly, and tried to take in our return cargo of palm- 
oil quickly, so as to start back before the sickly season 
set in. Somehow, though, everything seemed to work 
against us. One delay followed another, until we had 
spent three months on the coast cruising from the mouth 
of one pestiferous river to another, picking up our cargo 
in small lots here and there. 

“ At last the fever broke out among us, and the captain 
was the first one to go. Then the cook died, and we got 
Nimbus in his place. Fortunately for us, he was visiting 
his old home at that time, and ever since he came aboard 
he has proved one of the best all-round hands I ever had 
on a vessel. The mate and crew begged me to act as 
captain and take the brig home, which I finally consented 


225 


Navigating the Brig. 

to do. I got away from the coast as quickly as possible, 
in hopes of saving the rest of them ; hut having once got 
its hold, the fever would not let go, and they dropped off 
one after another. I was taken down nearly a month 
ago, and the first mate not until two weeks later ; but the 
fever made short work with him, poor fellow ! When I 
got about again I found that Nimbus and I were the only 
ones left, and nothing but his constant care and good 
nursing pulled me through. The vessel has been left to 
drift for I don’t know how long ; but, fortunately, we 
have had no very severe weather, and with such help as 
Nimbus could give her, she has taken care of herself. 

“ It’s a sad story, but it’s all past and done with now. 
After this wonderful meeting with you, I think the hard 
luck of the old brig must have left her, and within a few 
days more we’ll carry her, safe and sound, into Gloucester 
harbor.” 

Captain McCloud and Wolfe Brady stood watch for the 
first half of that night, and at midnight they turned in, 
while Breeze and Nimbus came on deck. 

Two hours later Nimbus, who was steering, lashed his 
wheel, and said they must heave the log, as the wind had 
freshened considerably. They got a lantern on deck, and 
Breeze was to turn and watch the glass, while Nimbus 
held the reel. 


226 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

The line had run about half out when it was suddenly 
slacked by the rising of the brig on a heavy sea. The 
slack caught on something, and Breeze leaned far over 
the taffrail to clear it. As he did so the big sea that had 
lifted her seemed to slide out from under the vessel, she 
dropped into the hollow with a* sharp lurch, and the boy 
was flung far from her. Without a sound he disappeared, 
and the blackness of the night closed over him as the brig 
swept on her course. 


Overboard ajid Inboard. 


227 


CHAPTER XVII. 

OVERBOARD AND INBOARD. 

■'VTIMBUS was of a peculiarly nervous temperament, and 
very apt to do things in moments of excitement that 
he regretted exceedingly as soon as he found time for re- 
flection. So, in the present instance, acting impulsively, 
as he saw Breeze flung overboard in the darkness, he did 
just the wrong thing, and what, half a minute later, he 
would have given anything to undo. He should have 
tossed overboard a life-preserver or other object that 
would float, put the helm hard down, and thrown the brig 
up into the wind, thereby checking her headway and put- 
ting her into a position to sail back over the course she 
had just come. At the same time he should have called 
Captain McCloud and Wolfe. Above all, he should have 
instantly cut loose dory No. 6, which was towing astern 
by a short but stout line, so that Breeze might have a 
chance of seeing and reaching it almost as soon as he 
came to the surface after his plunge. 

Instead of doing any of these things, the impulsive ne- 


228 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

gro, who was still a young and active man though very 
fond of calling himself “old,” slid down into the dory, 
cut the line by which she was towing, and seized a pair of 
oars. He had done all this as silently as Breeze had tum- 
bled overboard, and without making a single outcry to 
alarm the two sleepers left on hoard the brig. 

The instant he had cut the line and found himself 
adrift he realized the folly of his act, and began to shout 
at the top of his voice, in the hope that it was not yet too 
late to arouse Captain McCloud and Wolfe. At the same 
time he began to pull wildly after the swiftly moving 
brig. He quickly realized that this was of no use, for she 
was moving three feet to his one, nor did his shouts bring 
any response from those on board. In spite of his excite- 
ment, a certain instinct told him that, so long as he could 
not catch the brig, the only thing remaining for him to 
do was to face about and try to find Breeze. 

His movements had been so quick that he was at no 
great distance from where the boy had struck the water, 
and was now swimming in the direction of the vanishing 
brig. He, at least, heard the cries uttered by Nimbus, 
and answered them. He had retained his presence of 
mind wonderfully, and now realized that somebody was 
searching for him. So he swam as easily as possible, but 
continued to shout at regular intervals ; and in about five 


Overboard and Inboard. 229 

minutes he had the satisfaction of seeing the dory loom 
out of the darkness close beside him. In another minute 
he had caught hold of its gunwale, and been drawn in, 
dripping and chilled, but very thankful for this escape 
from what had seemed a hopeless situation. His first 
glance was towards the brig, but he could not see even a 
shadow resembling her. She had disappeared in the 
darkness as utterly as though she had never existed. 

“ They must have put her about and headed her this 
way by this time,” he said to Nimbus. “ I wonder that 
we don’t see her.” 

“ No, sah ; dey don’ put um ’bout. Dey sailin’ away, 
an’ nebber know nuffin. Ole fool Nim nebber tell ’em 
good-by. Come off an’ keep on sayin’ nuffin at all to 
nobody.” 

“ You don’t mean to say, Nimbus, that you left without 
giving any alarm ! without waking my father or Wolfe !” 

“ Yes, sah,” answered the black man in a most crest- 
fallen tone. “ Didn’t wake nobody. Didn’t t’ink ob 
nuffin sousin’ how to sabe young cap’n. Jump quick in 
boat, cut um ’drif’, an’ come. Bimeby catch um, pull um 
in. Here he is ! Here we is !” 

“Yes, that’s certain enough, ‘here we is,’ and how 
we’re going to get out of this scrape it would puzzle a sea 
lawyer to tell. I suppose you did the best thing you 


230 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

could think of. If you’d only given an alarm, though! 
'Now, with the wheel lashed, the brig may sail on for 
hours, always getting farther and farther away from us, 
before either of them wakes up. Well, we’re not dead 
yet, and while there’s life there’s hope. I’m very grate- 
ful to you, at any rate, for coming to me so quickly. 
Now, perhaps you can do me another good turn by tell- 
ing me how to keep from freezing to death in these wet 
clothes.” 

Yes, indeed, Nimbus could do that, and in a minute 
more Breeze had stripped off his soaked garments, slipped 
into his oil-skin jacket and trousers, which had fortunately 
been left in the dory, and was rapidly getting warm by 
hard work at the oars. At the same time Nimbus, with 
powerful hands, was wringing the wet clothing as dry as 
though it were in a centrifugal steam-wringer. Of course 
the things were still damp and cold when Breeze again 
put them on ; but, with his oil-skins drawn over them to 
keep out the wind, and still keeping up his exercise with 
the oars, he was soon in a glow. 

As he rowed he instinctively kept the dory headed on 
the same course the brig had taken, by holding her broad- 
side to the wind, which still blew steadily from the south- 
ward. 

At last the day broke, gray and cheerless, but free from 


Overboard and Inboard. 


231 


fog. Each time the boat was lifted on a wave its occu- 
pants scanned the ever-widening horizon eagerly, in the 
hope of sighting some vessel. At last the day had fully 
come, and they knew the full extent of their disappoint- 
ment. Their frail craft was the only object floating on 
the whole weary expanse of tumbling waters. 

For a long time they sat in silence. Neither had any 
words of comfort to offer the other. Finally Nimbus 
said, mournfully, 

“ Who you s’pose cookin’ on de brig for de cap’n, now 
ole Nim done gone ?” 

“ I don’t know,” answered Breeze, rousing up from his 
sorrowful reflections, and making a brave effort to throw 
off the gloomy thoughts that were taking possession of 
him, “ but I guess they’ll manage to make out somehow. 
I know I could in their place.” 

“Dey habin’ all de grub, an’ no cook in de camboose. 
We habin’ de cook, but no grub an’ no camboose,” con- 
tinued Nimbus, following up the train of thoughts sug- 
gested by his hunger. 

“ No grub ! Why, yes we have, right on board this very 
blessed dory,” cried Breeze, to whose memory the black 
man’s words recalled the ship-biscuit, a dozen of which 
still remained in the little stern locker. The stock of pro- 
visions which he thereupon produced seemed to restore 
17 


232 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

both strength and hope to Nimbus, and he fairly laughed 
when he saw it. 

“ Ole Nim all right,” he declared, “ so long he teef keep 
a-grindin’ an’ a-crunchin’.” 

As they ate one apiece of the precious biscuit Breeze • 
thought of Wolfe’s praise and disdain of this same food 
the day before, and wondered if he should ever again see 
his light-hearted dorymate. 

In the fresh- water keg so little of the precious fluid 
remained that they allowed themselves only a single 
swallow wflth which to wash down the dry biscuit. On 
this account their simple meal was as prolonged as though 
it had been quite a substantial feast. 

After they had finished this very unsatisfactory break- 
fast, and had resolutely put away the few biscuit that 
remained, in spite of their longing to eat them all, Nimbus 
said, “ Well, young cap’n, wot we do now ?” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Breeze, “ unless we 
try and row to land.” 

“ Wot Ian’ ? Ware he ? How far ?” 

“ Father said yesterday that Sable Island bore due west 
365 miles from where we were then. We must have 
come, let me see, seven and a half knots an hour for 
fourteen hours would be 105 miles. From 365, that leaves 
260, and we have rowed perhaps ten. It must be about 


Overboard and Inboard. 


233 

250 miles away from us at this minute. Do you think 
we could possibly row that distance, Nimbus ?” 

“ Don’ know.. Ole Nim row hard, row long way for 
grub. But how you fin’ um? Got no compass. How 
you steer um due wes’ ?” 

“That’s so. I didn’t think of that. I don’t suppose 
the wind will always blow from the southward. Perhaps 
it has changed and is blowing from some other direction 
even now, and we don’t know the difference. And to 
think that I have got a compass here and can’t open it ! 

I suppose I might manage to force the ball open with my 
knife, but that might break the compass.” 

“Wot you say? You got um compass?” exclaimed 
Nimbus, who had listened attentively, while his com- 
panion thus thought aloud. 

“ Yes,” replied Breeze, drawing the golden ball from 
its pocket and unclasping the chain. “ There’s a compass 
in this ball, but nobody knows how to open it.” 

“Let ole Nim see um,” said the other, extending his . 
great black hand for the trinket. 

He examined it with the closest attention for more 
than a minute, and then said, 

“ Nim can open um.” 

“ You can open it?” exclaimed Breeze, in great astonish- 
ment. 


234 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ I t’ink so. Seen plenty all de same like um in de Eas’ 
Injes.” 

“ Well, let me see yon do it.” 

After much fumbling in the thick mat of wool that 
served him for hair, Nimbus drew from it a pin. With 
this he began to trace out, carefully and very slowly, the 
lines of the quaint pattern engraved on the surface of the 
ball. He followed one of them around and around, in 
and out, for several minutes, often stopping, going back, 
and beginning all over again. He did not speak, and 
Breeze, eagerly watching his movements, was also silent. 

At last the movement of the pin was stopped, and on 
the spot that it indicated the pressure of a thumb-nail 
released a spring. The upper half of the ball swung on 
its pivot, and once more its interior was displayed to 
view. 

“ Well, if that don’t beat everything !” exclaimed Breeze. 
“How on earth did you ever learn that trick, Nimbus ?” 

“ Him a labyrim ball,” answered the black man. 

“ A what ?” 

“ A labyrim. Same like you might get los’ in.” 

“ Oh, a labyrinth.” 

“Yes, sah, a labyrim, an’ if you fin’ de p’int ob de 
startin’, an foller to de end, den you open um.” 

This was indeed the whole secret of the ball, and after 


Overboard and Inboard. 235 

it had been explained to Breeze he too could trace the 
delicate line from its beginning, which was plainly to be 
seen, to its end above the hidden spring. There was no 
distinguishing mark to indicate this point, and it was 
almost impossible to locate it, even after one had found it 
many times, without first tracing out the labyrinth. The 
accident by which Breeze had hit upon it and opened the 
ball while asleep was so unlikely to occur that, knowing 
the secret, he now wondered more than ever that it had 
happened. Nimbus had learned the secret of similar puz- 
zles upon one of his many voyages to East Indian ports f 
and was made proud and happy by this opportunity of 
displaying his skill. 

“ Now,” he said, wdth a smile that exhibited two glisten- 
ing rows of ivory, “ we got a compass, we go fur Saple 
Islan’. Ole Nim row like steam-ingin’.” 

And he did row like a steam-driven machine, with long, 
powerful strokes, hour after hour, all through the day— 
never faltering, never stopping, and never seeming to tire. 
To Breeze, who watched him with ever-increasing aston- 
ishment, he was a marvel of endurance. Breeze also rowed 
with the second pair of oars the greater part of the day ; 
but he was several times obliged to stop and rest. With 
such unflagging energy was the dory urged forward that 
when night came he did not doubt they had made fifty 


236 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

miles since morning. He really began to hope that they 
might possibly reach Sable Island, though he still ad- 
mitted that the chances were largely against their doing 
so. 

They had decided to eat but two biscuit apiece each 
day, and thus make their scanty store last them three 
days; after which they looked forward to two days of 
starving before they could hope to sight the island. Even 
when they should have covered the required distance, they 
knew how little chance there was of their finding the long, 
low sand -bank, which is all that Sable Island is. The 
probabilities were that currents or winds might carry 
them so far either to the north or south that they would 
miss it entirely. They anticipated great suffering, and 
nerved themselves to bear it ; but, happily, they were not 
to be called upon to undergo it. 

Night had fallen, and as they could no longer see their 
compass, and the sky still remained overcast, they had 
ceased to row. Breeze, tired out with his day’s hard work, 
had fallen into a doze, while Nimbus sat silently gazing 
into the darkness. Breeze had slept for about an hour 
when he was awakened by a touch, and the voice of the 
black man saying, “ Young cap’n, dere’s a light !” 

The boy sprang up and gazed eagerly in the direction 
indicated. For a while he could see nothing; then he 


Overboard and Inboard, 


237 


caught a momentary glimpse of it, the red side-light of 
some vessel sailing past them far to the southward. Nim- 
bus had already taken to the oars, and was pulling like a 
madman in that direction. Watching the light closely, 
Breeze soon saw that it was moving too fast for them 
either to intercept or overtake it. 

“ It’s no use, Nimbus,” he said finally, “ you are only 
wasting your strength. We can never catch that fellow. 
Oh for a match, though ! If we could only make some 
kind of a flare !” 

“ Match !” cried Nimbus. “ Yes, sah ; dreckly, sah !” 

With this he began to fumble again in his thatch of 
wool, which seemed almost as well supplied with articles 
required by shipwrecked sailors as was the famous bag in 
“ The Swiss Family Bobinson and in a moment he drew 
a brimstone match from it. 

Breeze was too busy cutting the oil-skin biscuit-bag into 
strips to notice from what a curious safe the match was 
produced ; and when it was offered to him he only said, 
“Light it quick! and I believe we’ll start a flare after 
all.” 

In another moment one of the strips of oiled muslin was 
blazing finely ; and, standing on a thwart, Breeze held it 
as high as he could reach above his head. 

Before it had burned out another was lighted, and then 


2 38 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

another, but still no answering signal was seen. The 
boy’s heart had almost failed him as he lighted the last 
strip and waved it to and fro. Suddenly a bright flame 
darted out of the blackness from the direction in which 
the red light had just disappeared, and with a great blind- 
ing rush of joy he knew that their signal had been seen 
and answered. 

They still continued to row with all their might in that 
direction, their hearts filled with the joyful emotions of 
unexpected hope. Although they had no breath w T ith 
which to express it, the thought that it was the brig on 
her way back to look for them had entered both their 
minds. Breeze saw visions of his father and Wolfe and 
home, with the mother who awaited him there ; while Nim- 
bus revelled in thoughts of his beloved camboose, and of 
all the good things he would cook and eat as soon as he 
once more got into it. 

A backward glance soon showed them both the sailing- 
lights of the vessel, and told them that her course had 
been altered so that she was headed in their direction. 
Then they began to shout, and at last heard the welcome 
answering hail. Finally the ghostly outline of sails and 
spars became visible. It was a schooner. 

They could hardly believe it at first, so convinced had 
they become that it must be the brig, but as she drew 


BLESS MY SOUL, IF IT ISN’T BREEZE MoCLOUD ! 


















Overboard and Inboard. 239 

near they saw that she was indeed a schooner, and a reg- 
ular Gloucester Banker at that. 

Five minutes later they stood on her deck, and as the 
light of a lantern shone on his face, Breeze was seized by 
the hand, and a well-known voice exclaimed, “ Bless my 
soul if it isn’t Breeze McCloud !” 


240 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

NEWS FROM HOME. 

r pHE voice that greeted Breeze so heartily was that of 
Captain Ezra Coffin, and the schooner he had just 
boarded was the Fish-hawk. The boy could hardly be- 
lieve his senses. Could it be that he had again fallen in 
with friends on the high seas? Was this really the schoon- 
er he had left in Gloucester more than a month before ? 
It did not seem possible, and yet here was Captain Coffin 
shaking his hand, old Mateo dancing about and trying 
for a chance to embrace him, and other familiar faces, 
seen dimly by the lantern - light, crowding forward to 
greet him. 

Mateo, the cook, could not contain his joy, but danced 
and shouted extravagantly, “ We found ’em! we found 
’em ! Me tella you fader we finda you, Breeza. Where 
zat rasca, Nimba, zat Guinea boy? You bringa him, eh, 
Breeza ?” 

“ Here I,” cried Nimbus, who had stood back unnoticed 
as the crew crowded around Breeze. “Who callin’ me 
rask? Wot he mean? Ware he?” 


News from Home. 241 

At the sound of this voice old Mateo, who had just 
succeeded in embracing Breeze, left him, made one bound 
to where the black man stood, and seizing him by his 
wonderful ears, began to shake his head violently, ex- 
claiming, u You no a raska, eh? you black pickaninny! 
Ole Mateo teacha you ! He pulla you ear many time ! 
you forgetta him, eh ?” 

Nimbus was at first bewildered and thrown off his 
guard by this sudden attack, but recovering himself 
quickly, he seized the little cook with his powerful hands, 
and raising him clear of the deck, held him, kicking and 
screaming, at arm’s-length above his head, while he exe- 
cuted a waddling, uncouth sort of a war-dance. As he 
did so he shouted, or rather chanted, 

“Ah, you ole Mateo ! Now I know um well ! You ole 
Portugee man! You pull Nimbo’s ears when he picka- 
ninny! You show um de cookin’ ob de duff an’ de 
scouse ! Now you gwine a-fishin’ ! You t’ink you catch 
um one time mo’, but you is mistooken ! He grown to be 
a whale ! He catch you, an’ he eat you ! You ole rask 
yo’se’f !” 

All this was shouted out in a singsong tone, to which 
the grotesque dancing-steps of the black man kept time. 
The whole affair was so ludicrous that the members of 
the crew screamed with laughter, and rolled on the deck 


242 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

in the excess of their merriment. Even Captain Coffin 
and Breeze were compelled to join in the general mirth, 
and the latter laughed until the tears rolled down his 
cheeks. It was a great relief and pleasure to enjoy a 
hearty laugh once more after the sadness and anxiety 
of the days just past, and it did the boy more good than 
anything that could have happened just then. 

The comical actions of Mateo and Nimbus were their 
peculiar modes of expressing great joy at again meeting 
with each other. Years before, Mateo, while cooking on 
board a vessel engaged in the African trade, had picked 
up Nimbus, then a boy, and taken him as an assistant. 
They had sailed together for several years, and had then 
lost sight of each other. This curious encounter in mid- 
ocean was their first meeting since that time. 

When Nimbus set Mateo down, the old cook shook his 
fist in the face of his former pupil. He said nothing to 
him then, for he had just bethought himself of a neglected 
duty, and stepping over to where Breeze and the captain 
were standing, he uttered the famous expression that had 
so often proved a welcome one to the boy : 

“ Yell, Breeza, you hongry, eh ?” 

“ I should say I was hungry. I guess anybody would 
be if he’d had only a couple of dry ship’s biscuit to eat in 
more than twenty-four hours,” 


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News from Home. 243 

“Holy feesh!” exclaimed Mateo, “you got ze ship’s 
cook an’ nottin’ do for eat ? zat lazy Nimba ! heem no 
good !” 

The two castaways certainly tried their best to lay in a 
liberal supply of food for future use that evening, and it 
was hard to tell which was the happier, old Mateo in see- 
ing them eat, or they in eating. Of course Nimbus found 
fault with each dish, and would not acknowledge that 
anything was as good as he could have prepared it, had 
he been lord of the galley, and of course Mateo treated 
his claims to be considered a cook , with scorn. Thus was 
begun the professional rivalry between these two curious 
specimens of sea cooks, that offered infinite amusement 
to the crew of the Fish-hawk , and made this voyage one 
long to be remembered and laughed over. 

When he had reached the stage at which he began to 
think of ship-biscuit much as Wolfe had done after their 
first meal on the brig, Breeze left the cooks to settle their 
differences as best they might, and went on deck for a 
talk with the skipper. From him he learned that the . 
Fish-hawh was only four days out from Gloucester, and 
that when he last saw Mrs. McCloud she was well, though 
worrying sadly over the unexplained disappearance of 
her boy.” 

“How did it all happen, Breeze?” asked the captain. 

18 


244 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Wolfe Brady tried to tell me something about it, but 1 
hadn’t time to hear much.” 

“Wolfe Brady!” exclaimed Breeze. “What do you 
mean? Where have you seen Wolfe Brady ?” 

“ Why, yesterday ! Didn’t I tell you ? How careless ! 
I thought I told you first thing after you came aboard 
that we fell in with the Esmeralda yesterday ; no, I mean 
to-day, for it isn’t midnight yet, about noon, and seeing 
her signal of distress I went aboard of her. 

“ I was never more surprised in my life than when I 
found your father and Wolfe Brady on the vessel, and all 
alone. You could have knocked me down with a rope 
yarn. They were in terrible low spirits over losing you, 
and didn’t know how to account for it. They had not 
waked until daylight, and had no idea of how long you 
had been gone or what had happened. Their only hope 
was that so long as the black man and the dory had gone 
too, you were both drifting round somewhere in it. They 
would have put their brig about and started back to look 
for you, but they hadn’t the strength to swing the yards. 
Altogether they formed a melancholy ship’s company.” 

“That accounts for Mateo’s asking if I had brought 
Nimbus with me,” said Breeze. “I wondered how he 
knew anything about it. Poor father and poor Wolfe! 
Could you do anything to help them, captain ?” 


245 


News from Home . 

“ Oh yes ; I put two men aboard to take the brig into 
Gloucester, and promised to sail over the course they had 
just come, and keep the sharpest kind of a lookout for 
you. Wolfe Brady wanted to come with us, but felt that 
his duty lay with your father. He said, though, he would 
never go dorymates with anybody else if you shouldn’t 
turn up again. Captain McCloud was very much broken 
down over losing you under such circumstances, so soon 
after your wonderful meeting with each other, and I was 
afraid he was going to have a relapse of his fever. For 
that reason I made him promise, before I left him, that he 
would take the brig at once into port, and not attempt to 
find you. I, of course, had no idea that you could be 
found, and had not the slightest hope of ever seeing you 
again. How did you manage to follow the brig’s course 
so well without any compass and under a clouded sky ?” 

“¥e had a compass,” replied Breeze, smiling. 

“ Did you ? They said on board the brig that there was 
none in the dory, and that, provided you were in it, you 
would probably be lying to a drag about where they left 
you.” 

Then Breeze told Captain Coffin the whole story of the 
golden ball, and the important part it had played in direct- 
ing their movements. 

When he had finished the captain said, “Well, it has 


246 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

certainly saved you this time by bringing you to this point ; 
for if I had kept the course I was steering all night, and 
you had simply drifted before the wind, we might have 
been anywhere from thirty to fifty miles apart by morn- 
ing. I don’t see now why you didn’t drift farther to the 
northward with this southerly wind.” 

“ I guess it was because I made a pretty big allowance 
for leeway,” replied Breeze. 

“ Oh yes ; if you thought of that, I’ve no doubt it was.” 

“ By-the-way, captain, how does it happen that you are 
only just now on your way to the Banks ?” asked Breeze. 
“ I thought you were to start within a week after the 
Vixen left Gloucester.” 

“ So we did,” replied the skipper, “ and got as far as 
Banquereau. There we lost our foremast in a gale, and 
ran back after a new stick. While we were refitting I 
heard such bad reports from the Banks that I determined 
to try a new ground to me, and make a trip to the Iceland 
ooast after a load of fletched * halibut.” 

“ To Iceland !” cried Breeze, in dismay. 

“ Yes, lad, to Iceland. Sixteen hundred miles farther 


* Fletch, a corruption of flench , or flense , meaning to strip off in lay- 
ers. A fletched halibut is one from which the meat is cut off in strips 
and salted, to be afterwards smoked. 


H7 


News from Home, 

away from Gloucester than we are now. Twenty -four 
hundred miles to go, and the same distance to return, is a 
pretty long fishing trip, isn’t it ? But it will soon be over, 
and early next autumn we’ll land you safe and sound in 
Gloucester again, in plenty of time to get ready for a win- 
ter’s trip to George’s if you want to take one.” 

The idea of going on such a long voyage, and having his 
return home deferred for several months, was so startling 
to Breeze that for a few moments he remained silent, not 
knowing what to answer. 

“ Why, lad,” said the captain, “ what else is there for you 
to do ? You know I can’t afford to put back to Glouces- 
ter again simply to carry you there. It would cost a 
thousand dollars to do that. Even if we should put about 
now and try to find the brig again, it isn’t at all likely 
we could do so. I am short-handed from having let two 
men go back with her, and you and your black friend will 
just give me a full crew again. Besides, your dunnage is 
already aboard and waiting for you. I meant to have sent 
it up to your house before sailing, but I forgot it. But, 
I say, Breeze, you haven’t told me yet how you happened 
to take French leave and come off to the Banks the way 
you did. Your poor mother was almost distracted when 
you didn’t come home that night, nor yet the next day. 
She sat up all night long waiting for you, and was at 


248 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishmg Banks. 

my house by daylight to get me to go and look for 
you.” 

“ Poor mother !” said Breeze, pityingly. “ The worst of 
being carried off so was the thought of her distress, and 
now she’ll have a new cause for trouble when father and 
Wolfe get home and can’t tell her whether I’m dead or 
alive.” 

“ You were carried off, then ?” 

“ Of course we were. You don’t suppose I would have 
gone off in that way of my own accord, do you ?” 

“ No, not exactly ; but there were ugly stories around 
town about your having been seen at Grimes’s, and been 
chased by the police for creating a disturbance on the 
streets. Of course your mother wouldn’t believe a word 
of them, and I didn’t wholly either, for I know how such 
things get exaggerated ; but I was afraid you might have 
got into some sort of a scrape.” 

When Breeze had told Captain Coffin the whole story 
of that night, the latter said, cordially, 

“ I believe every word you tell me, Breeze, and I think 
you acted just right under the circumstances; in fact, I do 
not see how you could have done anything else. Still, I 
think your long absence on this voyage will prove a good 
thing for you. It will give Wolfe Brady plenty of time 
.to deny all the false stories, and will also give people time 


News from Home. 249 

to believe him. You know it always takes folks longer 
to believe good than bad stories about a person.” 

“Well, sir,” said Breeze, “ under the circumstances, and 
as the only other thing to do w T ould be to get into dory 
No. 6, and drift away again, I believe I’ll ship with you 
for this Iceland trip.” 

“Yes, I think you had better,” replied the skipper, 
gravely. 

Breeze was much pleased to find again the outfit of 
clothing that he had transferred to the Fish-hawk from 
the Albatross. After weeks of wearing old garments, 
picked up here and there among his recent shipmates on 
the Vixen , it was indeed a comfort to be able to dress 
himself once more in a full suit of his own clothes. 

The Fish-hawk was a much larger and more comfort- 
able schooner than any he had sailed in before ; and only 
the thought that there were sorrow and anxiety in the 
little home cottage on his account prevented him from 
thoroughly enjoying the prospect of a trip in her to far 
distant seas. Even this cause of trouble was partially re- 
moved two days later, when they sighted several fishing 
schooners, and the skipper offered to run down to them, 
and ask the first one that should be homeward bound to 
take letters, and also to report Breeze McCloud as safe 
and well. 


250 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

As they drew near, one of these anchored vessels seemed 
strangely familiar to Breeze, who, after looking at her 
through a glass, said, “ I do believe it’s the old Vixen” 
He was right, and no men could have been more surprised 
than were her crew, when, soon afterwards, he and Cap- 
tain Coffin rowed to her in dory Ho. 6. They wel- 
comed Breeze as one from the dead, and there was not 
a man on board but shook him heartily by the hand and 
gave him a cordial greeting. Of them all, none appeared 
so glad to see him as poor Hank Hoffer, who, still suffer- 
ing greatly from the effects of his exposure in the ice, 
had never ceased to mourn the loss of his brave young 
rescuers. 

They were intensely interested in the story he had to 
tell them of his experiences since drifting away in the 
fog, and all declared that they had never before heard of 
any one person having such peculiar adventures during a 
single trip to the Banks. The Vixen was to return to 
Gloucester in two or three weeks more, and her skipper 
promised to contradict any unpleasant rumors he might 
hear concerning Breeze, and to tell the true story of his 
mysterious departure. He also promised to deliver, im- 
mediately upon his arrival, the letter Breeze had written 
to his mother, telling of his safety and where he had gone. 

Before they left the Vixen her skipper told Captain 


News from Home. 251 

Coffin that his anchor was caught on an ocean telegraph 
cable, and asked him whether he thought he ought to try 
and haul it up, thus running the risk of breaking the tele- 
graph, or cut his own cable when he got ready to leave. 

“ Buoy your own cable and cut it, by all means,” replied 
Captain Coffin, promptly. “ The telegraph company will 
pay you the full value of all that you lose, as soon as you 
send in a statement of the case to them. I did the same 
thing myself only about a year ago.” 

After getting the suit of shore clothes he had left on 
the Vixen , Breeze bade his old shipmates good-by, and 
he and Captain Coffin returned to the Fish-hawh , one of 
the Vixen men going with them to carry back dory No. 6. 
Breeze could not help watching the departure of the old 
dory with regret, as he thought of all he had gone 
through with in it, and how often it had served him in 
times of danger. 

As they sailed away from the Vixen , the thought of 
her being fast to a telegraph cable caused Breeze to ask 
the skipper how many cables there were crossing the 
Atlantic. 

“ I believe there are ten in all,” was the answer. “ Two 
of them run to Newfoundland, and eight cross the fishing 
banks, and land either on the Nova Scotia or New Eng- 
land coast.” 


252 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“ Is the very first one still working ?” asked Breeze. 

“No, the first one, which was laid in 1858, was only 
able to transmit, very feebly, one or two messages, and 
then it became silent, never to speak again. The first one 
that was of any real service was laid in 1864, as I well 
remember, for I saw the Great Eastern while she was 
laying it; but I believe that also has been long since 
abandoned.” 

While they were thus talking they lost sight of the 
Vixen, and were once more alone on the broad ocean. 
Then Breeze, for the first time, fully realized that he was 
really bound on a long voyage across the stormy Atlantic 
to the distant coast of Iceland. 


The Devil-fish of Flemish Cap. 253 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE DEVIL-FISH OF FLEMISH CAP. 



APT AIN COFFIN was an unusually well-informed 


man, and as Breeze was always on the lookout for 
stray bits of information, he took advantage of the oppor- 
tunity afforded by this long voyage to ask the skipper a 
great many questions. One day, soon after leaving the 
Vixen , the lead, running out to a great depth, showed 
them to have crossed the Grand Bank, and to be on the 
deep waters of the North Atlantic. While they were 
talking of this, Breeze asked the captain how he supposed 
the Banks had been formed. 

“ My theory is,” answered the skipper, “ that they were 
formed, and are constantly being added to, by icebergs. 
You see, every spring thousands of these big fellows come 
sailing down through Davis Strait for their summer out- 
ing. They bring with them tons and tons of gravel and 
sand, collected while they formed part of slow -moving 
arctic glaciers, or picked up off the bottom as they drifted 
along the Greenland and Labrador coasts. Now, no mat- 


254 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

ter how large an iceberg is above water, it is more than 
twice as big below the surface — that is, we see less than 
one-third of its whole bulk, while the rest is under water. 
I saw one once aground in forty fathoms. Well, by-and- 
by the part that is under water begins to feel the influ- 
ence of the Gulf Stream, and to melt much more rapidly 
than that which is above. As the bergs drift about in 
this melting condition, they lose, here and there, quanti- 
ties of the sand they have brought with them. After a 
while they have melted away so much under water that 
they become top-heavy and capsize with a tremendous 
flurry, pitching overboard a great deal more of their car- 
go. Finally they melt away entirely, and all the material 
they have brought down from the north is swept up by 
the Gulf Stream, and deposited along its northern edge on 
what we call the Banks. To form them has been the 
slow but unceasing work of unnumbered centuries.” 

“But why doesn’t this great quantity of sand and 
gravel pile itself up until it finally reaches the surface 
and becomes an island or a lot of small islands ?” 

“Because of the fierce currents that are continually 
sweeping over the Banks and scattering the material far 
and wide. They are caused by the mighty flow of the 
St. Lawrence Biver, by tides and winds, and very largely 
by the Gulf Stream ; for, with such a volume of warm 


255 


The Devil-fish of Flemish Cap. 

water flowing north and east all the time, there must be 
an equal quantity of cold water flowing south and west 
to take its place.” 

“That’s so;” said Breeze, “I might have thought of 
that.” 

“Many persons,” continued Captain Coffin, “imagine 
the Banks to be islands of mud rising to within a few feet 
of the surface, and even showing above it in places; and 
I have been asked if navigation on them was not very 
dangerous on account of the shoal water. I actually 
had a man ask me once if we often went ashore on the 
Banks.” 

“ Of course, I have always known better than that,” 
said Breeze ; “ but I don’t know how near they do come 
to the surface.” 

“ The shoal est waters of the Grand Bank,” answered 
the skipper, “ are three fathoms, on the Virgin Bocks, nine- 
ty miles to the southward of Cape Race, and from that 
the depth increases to two hundred fathoms ; while to the 
south-east of the Bank soundings of six miles have failed 
to reach bottom.” 

“Well, there isn’t much danger of running aground in 
such waters,” laughed Breeze, “ and I’m very much obliged 
to you for this information ; but who do you suppose first 
found out that there were fish on the Banks ?” 


256 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ I don’t know ; perhaps it was that old Iceland fellow, 
Lief Erikson, who they say first discovered America. I 
have been told by the French fishermen who come over 
here every summer that their countrymen knew of these 
grounds as early as 1504, and that less than twenty-five 
years from the time that Columbus made his first voyage, 
a fleet of more than a hundred French, Spanish, and Port- 
uguese fishing vessels were visiting them regularly every 
summer.” 

“ I should think with such constant fishing the supply 
would give out,” said Breeze. 

“ It would seem so, but it doesn’t ; and I believe there 
are just as many fish on the Banks now as there ever 
were. Of course, there are more in some seasons than in 
others. This, for instance, appears to be an off year, and 
that is the reason I am going to see if they haven’t gone 
to the other side of the ocean for the summer.” 

Soon after this the Fish-hawk reached the small bank 
known as Flemish Cap, about three hundred miles east of 
Grand Bank, and the most distant of all the American 
fishing grounds. This was just twelve hundred miles 
from Gloucester, or half-way to Iceland, and Captain 
Coffin determined to set a few trawls, and see if they 
could not pick up some halibut here. As, under reduced 
sail, the schooner moved slowly across the Bank, several 


257 


The Devilfish of Flemish Cap. 

of the crew got out hand-lines and dropped them over the 
side. Among these was Nimbus, who, never having been 
on a fishing vessel before, was delighted to have a chance 
to try his luck at the new business, and very anxious to 
catch a halibut. 

Now, Breeze was possessed of the peculiar power of 
ventriloquism, or the ability to so use his voice as to make 
it seem to come from other places than that in which he 
stood. He had only recently discovered this power, but 
had practised continually while on board the Vixen, and 
had become fairly skilful in performing the trick. In the 
excitement of the past week he had not thought of it ; 
but now, as he saw Nimbus baiting a hook, and, under 
Mateo’s direction, preparing to make his first attempt at 
fishing, it flashed into his mind that here was a chance 
for some fun. He stationed himself close beside the two 
cooks, and waited patiently. 

After a while there came a tug at the line, and Nimbus 
began excitedly to haul in. As the fish approached the 
surface old Mateo went in search of a gaff, with which 
to get it on deck. Just as its nose showed out of the 
water, and the black man was about to give a great shout 
of joy over his success, a voice, coming apparently from 
the halibut’s mouth, cried out, 
t “ Let go, Nimbus, you hurt !” 


2 58 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

For a moment the negro stood petrified with amaze* 
ment, his mouth wide open as it had been in readiness for 
his shout of triumph, and his eyeballs rolling wildly. 

Once more the fish spoke. “ Let go, I say !” 

This was too much. With a yell of terror the negro 
dropped his line, which went whizzing out over the rail, 
and sprang backward. As he did so he encountered old 
Mateo, just coming to his aid with the gaff. The force of 
the collision sent the two cooks rolling on deck together. 
Nimbus shouting, “ Ow ! ow ! luff ole Mm alone ; he neb* 
ber catch um no mo’ !” and Mateo clutching at the black 
man’s ears, and spluttering out his wrath in Portuguese. 

He was the first to scramble to his feet, and picking up 
the gaff, began to belabor Nimbus over the head with its 
handle. Just then Breeze, who, though choking with 
laughter, had caught the line and pulled the halibut once 
more to the surface, called to him for help in getting it 
aboard. 

As the little man, responding to this summons, reached 
over the schooner’s side with the gaff, and prepared to 
hook it into the great white fish, he nearly tumbled over- 
board with the fright of hearing a voice directly beneath 
him say, 

“ What do you want with me, old Mateo ? I ain’t your 
fish.” 


259 


The Devil-fish of Flemish Cap. 

Mateo bounded from the deck as though he had re- 
ceived an electric shock, and had not one of the crew who 
stood near seized the gaff, it would have dropped into the 
water as it fell from his hand. 

The crew had by this time discovered the trick that 
Breeze was playing ; but they were trying to suppress 
their laughter in order that the two victims of the joke 
might not suspect it. 

As the halibut was lifted from the water and laid flap- 
ping on deck it seemed to say, “Well, this is what I call 
a mean trick ! We heard you fellows were bound for 
Iceland, and — ” There was no need to finish the remark, 
for before this point was reached old Mateo, with a howl 
of dismay, had darted forward and vanished in the forecas- 
tle, while Nimbus, with a yell of affright, had rolled aft 
and sought the safety of the cabin. 

Then how those fishermen did roar with laughter, and 
stamp on the deck with their heavy boots, and slap Breeze 
on the back in token of their appreciation of his talent 
and its successful application ! From that time forward 
he was obliged to exercise it frequently for the benefit of 
his shipmates ; but it was long before Nimbus thoroughly 
understood it, or could be persuaded that the mysterious 
voices that seemed to come from all parts of the schooner 
were not produced by some invisible being. 

19 


260 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishhig Banks . 

The readiness with which this first halibut had taken 
the hook determined Captain Cofiin to make at least one 
set of the trawls at that point. It was to be a “ set under 
sail.” That is, instead of coming to an anchor, the 
schooner, under easy sail, would drop one dory with its 
trawl, then another, and so on until all were out, when it 
would turn back, pick them up in the same order, and 
stand off and on near the buoys until it was time to haul. 
As each trawl was set at right angles to the course of the 
schooner, and there were six of them placed at intervals 
of half a mile, very nearly three square miles of bottom 
were thus covered. 

The rest of the crew had been paired off, and had chosen 
their dories before Breeze and Nimbus came aboard, so 
these two naturally became dorymates. This time Nim- 
bus was the green hand, and Breeze his instructor, in the 
art of trawl-setting. Everything went smoothly with 
them until they had partially hauled their trawl, when 
such a fearful thing happened to them that to this day 
Breeze cannot think of it without a shudder. 

Nimbus was in the forward part of the dory hauling in 
the line, while Breeze stood just behind him, coiling it 
away. As they were thus engaged, the trawl seemed to 
catch in some heavy body, and, in spite of his strength, 
Nimbus was obliged to call upon Breeze for aid to move it. 


MATEO. WITH A HOWL OF DISMAY. HAD DARTED FORWARD AND VANISHED IN THE FORE- 
CASTLE ; WHILE NIMBUS, WITH A YELL OF AFFRIGHT, HAD ROLLED AFT. 







26 i 


The Devil-fish of Flemish Cap. 

“ Mus’ hab um whale on de hook,” he panted, as he 
tugged at the straining line. 

Directly the strain was slackened, so suddenly that they 
nearly tumbled over backward. The water surrounding 
the boat became black as ink, and from it darted some- 
thing like a huge snake, that twined itself about the black 
man’s body. He gave a cry of horror, and tried to tear 
it loose, but at his first movement two mqre of the snake- 
like arms shot out from the inky water and also seized 
upon him. These twined about his legs and tripped him, 
so that he fell in the bottom of the boat, very nearly up- 
setting it. As it was, it was drawn so far over to one 
side by the weight of the creature attacking them that 
there was imminent danger of its filling, and leaving them 
to struggle powerlessly in the water. 

All this had happened so suddenly that Nimbus was 
flat on his back before Breeze at all realized what was 
taking place. A glance over the side showed him two of 
the cruelest-looking eyes he had ever seen. They were 
quite round, very large, and projected from the base of 
the long writhing arms, or tentacles, that had seized upon 
Nimbus. Snatching up an oar, and using it as a sort of 
harpoon, Breeze aimed a furious blow at one of the pro- 
truding eyes. Whether he struck it or not he could not 
tell, for before he could recover the oar it was torn from 


262 Dory mates: A Stoiy of the Fishing Banks . 

his grasp and drawn under the water. At the same in- 
stant another of the monster’s tentacles was thrust upward 
and fastened upon him, pinning his left arm to his body. 

. T n the first shock of his terror, Nimbus rolled, scream- 
mg and helpless, among the slippery fish in the bottom of 
the dory. Suddenly a cry from Breeze of “ Help, Nim- 
bus ! Help me ! I’m being dragged overboard !” seemed 
to restore his courage. He struggled to his knees, seized 
upon one of the snake-like things that held him, and, with 
a mighty wrench, literally tore it in two. This gave him 
some freedom of motion, and he managed to reach over 
to where Breeze was clinging to a gunwale, and drew the 
boy’s sheath-knife from his belt. 

Now the black man became the attacking party, and 
with the keen-edged knife began to slash right and left at 
the clinging tentacles, several more of which had by this 
time risen from the water, and were endeavoring to seize 
him. He fought so savagely, and with such effect, that 
finally the monster, having lost five of his arms, sank sul- 
lenly from their sight beneath the discolored ^vaters. 

For several minutes after their enemy had disappeared 
they watched apprehensively for his return, dreading a 
renewal of the attack. Much of their trawl had run out 
during the struggle, and now, making a tub fast to it, 
they tossed it overboard, and while Breeze held up an oar 


The Devil-fish of Flemish Cap. 263 

as a signal for the schooner to come to them, Nimbus be- 
gan to row towards her. 

“ What do you think it was, Nimbus V Breeze asked, at 
^ length. 

“ Don’ know. Nebber see’d notting like um in all my 
sailin’. Mus’ be um debbil-fish.” 

Although Nimbus had never heard of Victor Hugo, he 
had applied to his late enemy the same name given it by 
the great French writer, the “devil-fish,” which is so 
wonderfully described in the “ Toilers of the Sea.” 

“Well, I think it was a sea-serpent,” said Breeze, “and 
I’m not sure but what there were half a dozen of them, 
too.” 

When Captain Coffin heard their story, and saw the 
portions of the monster that still remained in the dory, 
he fully realized the peril they had been in, and congratu- 
lated them upon their escape from the embrace of a giant 
cuttle-fish. He measured the largest of the arms that 
Nimbus had cut from the creature’s body. It was blood- 
less, and composed entirely of gristle, and from its length 
the skipper concluded the creature must have measured 
twenty feet from tip to tip of two of its arms. 

“ But what kind of a beast was it ?” asked Breeze. “ It 
had big eyes, and seemed to be swimming in ink, but I 
could not see any tail or fins.” 


264 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“No, it did not have any. Its body was simply a 
round, leathery sack, about as big as a medium-sized 
squash. It had a horny beak like a parrot’s, and could 
have given you an ugly bite if it had got hold of you. 
The ink that it threw out was the sepia of commerce, 
from which India -ink is made. The creature was the 
giant squid, or octopus. He had eight arms, and but for 
your knife would undoubtedly have dragged you both to 
the bottom’ of the ocean.” 

“ Do they often attack people ?” asked Breeze. 

“No; they rarely appear on the surface of the water, 
and this fellow would not have done so if one of your 
trawl-hooks had not caught him. He belongs to the same 
family as the little squid we catch in such quantities on 
the Banks for cod bait.” 

“ I’d hate to have to catch such a fellow as he was for 
bait,” said Breeze, with a shudder. 

“ He’d make good whale bait,” replied the skipper. 
“There’s nothing the sperm-whale likes better. I once 
saw a piece of the arm of a cuttle-fish, thirty feet long, 
taken from a dead whale’s mouth, and we calculated that 
the creature to which it had belonged must have meas- 
ured one hundred and twenty feet from tip to tip.” 

“ I thought a whale’s throat was too small to swallow 
a thing like that,” said Breeze. 


The Devil-fish of Flemish Cap . 265 

“Not the throat of a sperm-whale. That is large 
enough to swallow ’most anything. You are thinking of 
the right whale. He couldn’t swallow a mackerel, his 
throat is so small.” 

One afternoon, ten days after this incident, by which 
time the crew of the Fish-hawk were heartily tired of the 
cold, stormy weather of the North Atlantic, the cry of 
“Land, ho!” rang through the schooner. The western 
sun, breaking through a bank of clouds, shone clear and 
full upon a distant snow -covered mountain - top. The 
ocean had been crossed, and Iceland was in sight. 


266 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 


CHAPTER XX. 


ON THE COAST OF ICELAND. 


HIS first glimpse of the great northern island so fas- 



cinated Breeze that he could not take his eyes off 
the distant spot of glistening whiteness. It seemed too 
wonderful to be true, that he, a poor fisher-lad, should be 
about to visit the mysterious land of fire and snow that 
the majority of travellers consider to be far beyond their 
limit of time and money. He thought over all that he 
knew or had ever heard of Iceland, and found that it was 
very little indeed. He knew that it was an island, that 
it contained icy glaciers, smoking volcanoes, vast deserts 
of broken lava, and was noted for its geysers, though he 
had no clear idea of what a geyser was or even looked like. 
He had heard that Mount Hecla was the principal volcano 
of the island, and he wondered if the distant white object 
at which he was gazing might not be it. This was about 
all that Breeze could remember concerning this wonderful 
country, and I do not believe that many of the readers of 
this story know any more about it than he did. Do you ? 


THE FIRST VIEW OF ICELAND. 













On the Coast of Iceland. 267 

After gazing long through his glass at the snow-topped 
mountain they were approaching, and carefully studying 
his chart, Captain Coffin said it was not Mount Hecla, but 
must be the Snafell Jokull, or mountain, near the end 
of the long narrow promontory of Snafells (snow - hills). 
This projects from the western coast of the island, and 
separates the two great bays, or fiords, of Breda on the 
north and Faxa on the south. Although the halibut 
grounds, for which the Fish-hawk was bound, lie on the 
northern side of the island, while Reykjavik (pronounced 
Rike-ya-veek), the capital, is situated at the head of Faxa 
Fiord, in the south-western corner, Captain Coffin deter- 
mined to run in there and have a look at the place before 
beginning work. Besides having a desire to see some- 
thing of the capital city and the people of this out-of-the- 
way corner of the world, the schooner’s supply of fresh 
water was running short, and he was anxious to replen- 
ish it. 

While Breeze is still gazing at the Snafell Jokull, and 
Captain Coffin is altering his schooner’s course a point 
more to the southward, so as to fetch the light-house on 
Cape Reykjaines (smoking cape), let us take a sort of a 
general look at the curious island, and see if we can find 
out any more about it than these Yankee fishermen knew. 

In the first place, everybody knows, or ought to know, 


268 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

that Iceland, as well as Greenland, belongs to Denmark, and 
is ruled by a governor appointed by the Danish king. 
Everybody, however, does not know that, while Iceland is 
over six hundred miles from the nearest point of main-land 
in Europe, it is only one hundred and forty miles from 
Greenland, and is now generally regarded as being a part 
of America. It is as large as Scotland and Wales taken 
together, or as the American States of Maine and Hew 
Hampshire. Two of its northern points just touch the 
arctic circle, but owing to the influence of the warm ocean- 
currents surrounding it, its average winter weather is no 
more severe than that of Hew England, though its sum- 
mers are short, wet, and chilly. 

The whole island is of volcanic origin, and though it 
was thrown up from the sea thousands of years ago, it 
still smokes and steams in many places, and displays every 
evidence of containing some of the principal vents for the 
everlasting fires that rage just below the earth’s crust. 

There are now no trees in Iceland, other than stunted 
willows and birches, eight or ten feet high ; but it is said 
to have been formerly covered with fine forests of fir- 
trees, from which ships were built and furnished with 
spars. Such of these forests as were not cut down were 
destroyed by the awful volcanic eruptions of the last cen- 
tury, which covered the whole country with lava, pumice- 


269 


On the Coast of Iceland. 

stone, sulphur, or ashes, killed nearly ten thousand human 
beings, and immense numbers of horses, cattle, and sheep, 
poisoned vast shoals of fish in the surrounding ocean, and 
threatened the total destruction of everything living, 
both animal and vegetable, on the unfortunate island. 

Since that time the fortunes of Iceland have gone stead- 
ily from bad to worse. Its climate is slowly but surely 
growing colder. Its people are becoming poorer and 
poorer, and are leaving it for more favored lands in ever- 
increasing numbers. Each winter thousands of icebergs 
and vast fields of floe-ice drift across from Greenland, and 
pile themselves up on its western coast, clasping the island 
in a deadly embrace, and threatening its very life with 
their chill breath. 

Only the coasts of the island are inhabited, while the 
interior is a desolate, lifeless, and almost unexplored waste 
of lava plains, bogs, volcanic mountains, and ice-filled val- 
leys. The people live in huts built of wrecked timbers, 
picked up in the western fiords, or of blocks of lava roofed 
with turf. They cultivate forlorn little patches of oats 
watery potatoes, raise flocks of lean, long-legged sheep, 
herds of black cattle, and shaggy ponies about the size 
of those that come from the Shetland Islands. They 
gather and export sulphur, Iceland moss, and the downy 
breast-feathers with which the eider-duck has lined her 


270 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishmg Banks. 

nest. Above all, they fish for cod, halibut, ling, haddock, 
and herring. But for the fish with which its surrounding 
ocean teems, the island would have long ago been aban- 
doned to its icebergs and volcanoes. To these northern 
people fish is what bread and meat are to us. They eat 
it from year’s end to year’s end, and exchange it for all 
the other scanty necessities of their lives. They even feed 
their ponies, cattle, and sheep on dried fish during severe 
winters, after their meagre supply of coarse hay has given 
out. Fish are everything to Iceland, and it seems to fur- 
nish everything to them ; for they swarm by millions in 
its waters. After them up into those wild seas go the 
fishing boats of England, France, Denmark, Norway, and 
even far away Massachusetts in New England ; and after 
them had now come the good schooner Fish-hawh of 
Gloucester, bringing Breeze McCloud in her crew. 

In this far northern latitude the midsummer sun is only 
out of sight, below the horizon, for about two hours, or 
from eleven o’clock in the evening until one o’clock in the 
morning ; and at midnight, or the darkest hour, the twi- 
light is hardly to be distinguished from the high noon of 
a cloudy day. As the time of the Fish-hawk's reaching 
Iceland was about the middle of June, she sailed in un- 
broken daylight, and consequently the lamps were not 
lighted in the only two light-houses of which the island 


On the Coast of Iceland. 271 

can boast, one on Cape Eeykjaines and the other at the 
entrance to Reykjavik harbor. 

About nine o’clock in the evening they passed the 
Mealsack, which, rising from the sea about fifteen miles 
from the Smoking Cape, is one of the most remarkable 
rocks of the world. It is nearly round, about one hun- 
dred and fifty feet in diameter, and its black, rugged sides 
rise sheer and straight for two hundred feet above the 
surface of the water. Its top is snowy white, from the 
excrement of the innumerable sea-fowl that circle scream- 
ing above it, and find rude resting-places in its crevices, or 
on its spray-wet ledges. It is perhaps needless to say 
that no human being has ever trod its summit, or even 
effected a landing upon it. 

After leaving it, the Fish-hawJc skirted the coast of 
Eeykjaines, which presents as awful a scene of desolation, 
and of terrific struggles between fire and water, as can be 
imagined. The beetling cliffs of black lava are rent and 
broken into every conceivable shape. Deep fissures, into 
which the waves rush and roar with a mad fury only to 
be churned into foam, draw back their stony lips, as 
though grinning over the fate of the vessel that shall ap- 
proach them too closely. Dark caverns echo the hollow 
booming of the waters that fill them. Peaks, pinnacles, 
and spires rise sharp and forbidding above the chaotic 
20 


272 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks , 

masses piled about their feet. Everywhere through the 
milk-white foam of the ceaselessly dashing breakers 
jagged rocks show themselves, like the black fangs of 
monstrous beasts cruelly eager for their prey. It was a 
sight to sober even the merry face of Breeze McCloud ; 
while poor Nimbus, after a single glance at it, buried him- 
self in the forecastle and refused to come out so long as 
they remained in the vicinity of such a “Debbil place,” 
as he called it. 

A few hours later, after carefully threading her way 
through narrow channels, between numerous rocky islets 
that rose boldly from the water, the Fish-hawk dropped 
her anchor, and furled her sails in the harbor of Reyk- 
javik. There were two or three square-rigged vessels in 
the port, and a number of fishing boats ; but though it 
was still broad daylight, there were no signs of life aboard 
them, nor in the forlorn-looking little town in front of 
them. A solemn stillness, broken only by the occasional 
barking of dogs, brooded over the entire scene, and it was 
hard to realize that this was the capital of one of the old- 
est nations of the old world. 

Breeze thought they must have made some mistake, and 
got into the wrong place, and Captain Coffin Would have 
been inclined to agree with him if it had not been for the 
evidence of his chart ; but there was no room for doubt 


273 


On the Coast of Iceland ’ 

there. Probably no coasts on the globe have been more 
accurately or thoroughly surveyed than those of Iceland, 
and no one who has a knowledge of how they were made 
ever disputes the maps issued by the Danish War Office. 

“ It’s all right, Breeze,” said the skipper. “ This is the 
place we’ve been hunting for, miserable as it appears. 
We’d better turn in now for a few hours’ sleep, and per- 
haps things will look better to us to-morrow.” 

But they did not ; for under the lowering skies, and 
through the drizzling rain in which they next came on 
deck, the scene looked, if possible, more dreary than it had 
done the night before. About six o’clock the schooner 
was boarded by a man wearing an official cap, a long- 
skirted coat, and big boots, who was rowed off from the 
town in a small boat carrying a green flag. He was very 
polite, and talked a great deal of Danish, together with a 
few words of English, some French, and another language, 
which Breeze afterwards discovered to be Latin. 

In spite of all this, he finally succeeded in giving them 
to understand that he was the Health Officer of tfye port, 
and wished to see the schooner’s papers. Being shown 
into the cabin, he carefully inspected these, though he was 
evidently unable to make anything from them, except that 
the vessel came from the United States. 

In return, he handed the captain a long printed paper, 


2 74 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

of which nobody on board could read a word, and gravely 
selected a single silver coin from the handful that was 
offered him in payment of the port charges and his serv- 
ices. He satisfied himself by looking at them, that the 
crew were all in good -health; and learning that the 
schooner was in need of water, accepted one more dollar 
as a water fee, and pointed out a place on shore where 
they could take all they wanted. Then politely lifting 
his cap, he stepped into his boat, and was pulled back to 
the town. 

“Well, boys,” said the skipper, when this official had 
gone, “ I suppose it’s all right now, and we are free of the 
city, though I’m blamed if I can make out who that chap 
was. He may have been the governor himself for all I 
know. However, let’s get our water aboard, have a 
look at the place, and get away again as soon as we 
can, for we’ll all have the blues if we stay here many 
hours.” 

When Captain Coffin and Breeze went on shore, soon 
afterwards, they found the city to consist of about a hun- 
dred one-story houses, painted black, and containing two 
or three rooms each, half a dozen stores in two-storied 
buildings, a comfortable - looking governor’s residence, a 
university, a forlorn-looking hotel, a stone church called 
the cathedral, and a windmill. These were crowded to* 


On the Coast of Iceland. 275 

gether, without any attempt at regularity, on a narrow 
strip of rocky land between the harbor and a lagoon. 

Drawn up on the beach, in front of a row of rickety old 
wooden warehouses, were scores of fishing boats, and the 
whole place reeked with the smell of fish, fresh, dried, and 
decaying. Everywhere were nets, oars, and piles of fish. 
Brawny, hard-featured women trudged along the ill-paved 
streets carrying great loads of fish on frames like stretch- 
ers ; while the men of the town lounged at the corners, 
with pipes in their mouths, and watched them. A drove 
of ponies fastened in a line, each to the tail of the one 
ahead of him, bore immense packs of merchandise on their 
backs; and between the houses prowled lean, villanous- 
looking dogs in search of something to eat or a chance to 
fight. 

Inside of an hour Breeze and the captain had seen all 
they wanted to see of the city, and began to retrace their 
steps towards the landing. Just before they reached it 
they heard a great noise of shouting and laughter, and 
upon turning a corner they came upon a most comical 
sight. 

Surrounded by a crowd of men, women, children, ponies, 
and dogs stood Nimbus, who was evidently the greatest 
curiosity these Icelanders had seen in many a day. He 
had stopped to examine one of the ridiculous little Iceland 


276 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

ponies that appear to be more than half mane and tail. 
Its owner thought he wanted to buy it, and had tried to 
tell the stranger what a splendid, strong animal it was. 
Somehow Nimbus gathered an idea of what he was say- 
ing, and, to show his utter contempt for such a specimen 
of horse-flesh, he had suddenly thrown his great arms 
about the little beast and lifted it from the ground, kick- 
ing, squealing, and trying to bite. Other horse - traders 
had hurried to the spot, dragging their ponies after them, 
and a crowd had quickly collected to stare at the black 
man who could carry a horse. 

Finally Nimbus seized and lifted from the ground a pony 
with a man on his back, at which feat the crowd roared 
‘with delight. Suddenly the struggling pony screamed 
out, 

u Wow! wow ! put me down, or I’ll kick you !” 

Nimbus dropped him like a hot coal, the man on his 
back tumbled off in affright, and the crowd scattered from 
about the marvellous beast as though he had been a roar- 
ing lion. 

“ Come, Nimbus, let’s get back to the schooner,” said 
Captain Coffin, who had slipped up behind him ; and, turn- 
ing, the black man now for the first time noticed Breeze, 
and understood how the pony had been gifted with the 
power of speech. 


On the Coast of Iceland ’ 277 

They hurried away without explaining the wonder to 
the bewildered natives, and probably to this day that pony 
is regarded with awe and veneration as having once opened 
his mouth and talked. 

Three days after this, Reykjavik had been left far be- 
hind, and the Fish-hawk was sailing over the stormy wa- 
ters that wash the desolate northern shore of the island. 
This was where Captain Coffin had supposed the halibut, 
or “ spraka,” as the Icelanders call them, would be found, 
but thus far there was no sign of them. In order to 
search the ground thoroughly, he decided to drop dories 
at intervals of about a mile apart, and give those in them 
an opportunity to fish with hand-lines, by which means he 
hoped some feeding-ground of the halibut might be dis- 
covered. 

Near each dory was left an anchored buoy, bearing a 
flag with a number painted on it, and each crew was in- 
structed to fish in a circle about its buoy, but on no ac- 
count to lose sight of it. As the schooner sailed away the 
skipper carefully noted the bearing of each of these flags, 
and the distance between it and the next one, so that there 
might be no difficulty in returning to it. 

Breeze and Nimbus were in the first dory thus left, and 
the flag on their buoy was marked No. 1. In less than 
three hours after they had been dropped, the Fish-hawk 


278 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

returned to pick them up. All the other dories had been 
sighted as she came back, and the crews of two of them 
were catching fish hand over hand. The buoy bearing 
flag No. 1 was easily found, but to the dismay and distress 
of Captain Coffin and old Mateo, who were the only ones 
left aboard the schooner, no trace of the dory to which it 
belonged, nor of its occupants, was to be seen. 


Tempted from Duty . 


279 


CHAPTER XXI. 

TEMPTED FROM DUTY. 

l^OR a whole day the Fish -hawk cruised back and 
forth and in great circles in the vicinity of the 
deserted buoy, with a man constantly at the mast-head 
scanning the surface of the sea for some trace of the miss- 
ing dory. Then leaving the spot, she ran into the coast, 
from which the buoy was about twenty miles distant, and 
made inquiries at several of the tiny fishing villages that 
nestle at the heads of the deep fiords. It was all in vain. 
Nothing was seen, nothing had been heard, and the cause 
of the dory’s sudden and complete disappearance could 
not even be satisfactorily guessed at. The only bit of in- 
formation gained from the islanders was, that on the day 
the dory was lost a steamer had been seen skirting the 
coast, on her way to the southward, which was such an 
unusual circumstance that it was something to be talked 
about and wondered over. 

Finally the crew of the Fish-hawk sailed sorrowfully 
back to the halibut grounds, convinced that their well- 


280 D ory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

loved young shipmate and his black dorymate had been 
swallowed by the cold waters of that northern sea, and 
that they should never again see them in this world. 
Captain Coffin and old Mateo were especially distressed 
over what had happened, for they had loved the boy as 
an own son, and could not become reconciled to the fate 
which they supposed had overtaken him. It was the 
harder to bear because of its uncertainty. If they could 
only be sure of what had happened to him, and that 
he were not still drifting about, starving or perishing 
from thirst on that cruel sea, or stranded on some rocky 
islet of the inhospitable coast from which there was no 
escape ! 

With all this, the cause of the dory’s disappearance was 
a very simple one. Its occupants had merely been led 
astray, as many another has been and will be, in the pur- 
suit of riches. They had hardly been left on their station, 
and begun fishing, when the negro’s quick eye detected a 
small lump of grayish matter floating on the water but a 
short distance from them. At the sight he uttered an ex- 
clamation of joy, and hastily hauling in his line, he seized 
the oars and began to pull towards it. 

“ What is the matter ?” cried Breeze, who had not no- 
ticed the floating object, and would not have known what 
it was if he had. “ Where are you going 


Tempted from Duty . 281 

“ Ole Kira catch ura dreckly, young cap’n, den you see. 
Better’n fish ! better’n gole ! better’n ebberyting !” 

What could he mean? And when Nimbus stopped row- 
ing, and, stretching out his arm, lifted the little gray lump, 
about the size of a man’s fist, from the water, Breeze was 
no wiser than before. 

“What is it, Nimbus, and what is it good for?” he 
asked, in perplexity. 

“ Amble grease ! Good for sell ! Heap money ! P’r’aps 
fin’ more !” answered the black man, smelling of his prize 
and patting it with his great hands, while his eyes roved 
over the water in search of another like it. 

“ Ambergris !” shouted Breeze, who had heard from old 
fishermen stories of this precious substance, and of its fab- 
ulous value, but had never before seen it. “ You don’t 
mean, Nimbus, that that dirty -looking stuff is ambergris !” 

“ Yes, sah. Him amble grease sure ’nough,” answered 
the black man, who had more than once seen this most 
valuable of all the products of the sea on his native Afri- 
can coast. 

“Well, if that’s ambergris, I believe there’s another bit 
of it ove*r there,” said Breeze, standing up and looking 
eagerly in the direction from which the wind blew. 

He was right ; there was another bit, and beyond that 
they found another, and still another, until they had gatfi 


282 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

ered up a number of the small floating lumps that had 
been strung out over several miles of water. 

“What is ambergris, anyway?” asked Breeze, while 
Nimbus was rowing towards one of these pieces. 

“Don’ know,” was the answer. “Sick whale heave 
um up.” 

“ Sick whale !” exclaimed Breeze, in a tone of disgust. 
“ I hope you don’t expect me to believe such a yarn as 
that, Nimbus.” 

In spite of the boy’s disbelief, the black man was right ; 
for ambergris has been found in the intestines of sperm- 
whales, but only of such as were very thin and evidently 
diseased. It has also been thrown up by such whales m 
their death-struggles after being harpooned. It is valu- 
able on account of its delightful odor, and is used in the 
manufacture of most of the delicious perfumes for the 
handkerchief that chemists devote so much time and in- 
genuity to preparing and naming Nothing has ever 
been found to take its place, and it brings, according to 
the state of the market, from twenty -five to thirty -five 
dollars an ounce, or about five hundred dollars per pound. 

Although Breeze and Nimbus had no distinct idea of 
the value of what they were finding, they knew enough 
about it to become intensely excited as they discovered 
piece after piece, and the little pile in the bottom of the 


Tempted from Duty. 283 

boat began to assume very respectable proportions. In 
their eager search they forgot everything else, and paid 
no attention to where they were going, nor how far they 
had come. They even failed to notice the little squall of 
rain and fog that came whirling past them, bringing with 
it a change of wind. That they neglected to observe this 
was because, just at that moment, they sighted the great 
parent mass of gray stuff from which all the little pieces 
they had been picking up had broken off and drifted 
away. 

If they were excited before, they were wild w r ith excite- 
ment now, and both of them very nearly pitched into the 
water in their eagerness to secure their prize and get it 
into the dory. They estimated its weight to be nearly, if 
not quite, a hundred pounds ; and its bulk was so great 
that they had hard w T ork to squeeze it into the boat. 

When at last this had been safely accomplished, they 
sat and gazed at it and at each other. 

“I shouldn’t wonder if it was worth a thousand dol- 
lars,” said Breeze, at length. 

“ Mo’ like a millium !” answered Nimbus, whose ideas 
of the value of their prize were even more vague than 
those of his young dorymate. 

“Well,” said Breeze, “let’s head back for the schooner; 
Captain Coffin will know pretty near what it is worth. 


284 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

I suppose we’ll have to share this find with the rest of 
the crew, though ;” and with the shadow of covetousness 
creeping over his soul, the boy thought sadly of how much 
pleasanter it would be to divide their prospective profits 
between two than among fourteen. 

The same thought was evidently weighing upon Nim- 
bus, as he slowly picked up his oars and made ready to 
pull — where? Now for the first time since sighting the 
first bit of the stuff that had lured them from their post 
of duty they began to look for the buoy-flag, which they 
had been warned not to lose sight of. 

“ There it is !” cried Breeze, pointing to a distant speck 
on the water. 

They pulled towards it ; but, when they had approached 
close enough to discover its real nature, they found it to 
be but a bit of floating drift-wood, and though they did 
not know it, they had gone another half-mile in the wrong 
direction. 

“Well,” said Breeze, “it can’t be very far off, and so 
long as we pull with the wind we must get near enough 
to it for the schooner to sight us. The ambergris drift- 
ed with the wind, and we were pulling against it, you 
know.” 

Yes, Nimbus remembered that, and agreed that they 
must now go with the wind in order to retrace their 


Tempted from Duty . 285 

course. But neither of them knew that the wind had 
changed. 

So, for more than an hour they pulled, in what they 
imagined to be the right direction, and every stroke car- 
ried them farther away from the schooner. 

At length they realized their true position. They were 
once more adrift on the open sea in a frail dory, and this 
time without food or water. This time, too, they had only 
themselves to blame ; for only their own carelessness and 
direct disobedience of orders had brought them into this 
miserable plight. There was but little chance of their 
being picked up, for vessels were rare in these waters. As 
for seeking to gain the horrible, rock-bound coast of the 
island, the mere thought of what they had seen of it 
caused them to dread it almost as much as the open sea. 
Still, this seemed to be the only thing left for them to do, 
and once more the tiny compass that had already proved 
such a true friend to Breeze was brought into service. 

Upon getting the ball open and looking at the card, 
they were greatly puzzled to account for its movements, 
and thought it must be out of order. One side of it was 
so drawn down, and the other so lifted up, that the ball 
had to be inclined at a sharp angle to get the card to move 
at all. Neither of them had ever heard of the dip of the 
magnetic needle, nor did they know that they were within 


2&6 D ory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks, 

about ten degrees of the magnetic north pole, or the point 
at which a compass-needle, if allowed to move freely in 
every direction, would incline directly downward. How- 
ever, where they were it still worked sufficiently well to 
give them a course towards the land, of which they could 
as yet see nothing, and with heavy hearts they began to 
row in the direction thus indicated. 

The mass of ambergris in the dory seriously interfered 
with their movements, and left room for only one of them 
to row at a time. At last, when they had rowed thus for 
several hours — though in this region of perpetual daylight 
they had no means of knowing what time it was — Breeze, 
tired, hungry, and discouraged, pulled in his oars, and ex- 
claimed, 

“ I’ve a great mind to heave that stuff overboard, and 
I wish with all my heart that we’d never set eyes on it. 
The idea of its getting us into such a scrape !” 

In saying this, Breeze was only dropping into the fault, 
so common to us all, of trying to lay the blame of his 
own wrong action upon somebody or something else ; but 
Nimbus was wiser in this respect than his young com- 
panion. 

“ No, no !” he said. “ De amble grease all right. He 
don’ do nuffin. Now we got um, we keep um. Bimeby 
be berry glad ob um. Now let ole Nim row.” 


Tempted from Duty. 287 

“ I don’t care,” replied Breeze, changing places with the 
negro. “ I’d give the whole of it this minute for a loaf of 
bread. I don’t believe I ever was so hungry in my life.” 

“ Bimeby we get um bread,” said Nimbus, encouraging- 
ly, as he took the oars, “ an’ hab um amble grease too.” 

For an hour or two longer the dory was urged forward 
by the powerful, steady strokes of the black man, who 
seemed never to tire or to grow impatient at their hard 
fate. 

At length Breeze exclaimed, “ There’s land, Nimbus ; I 
see it !” 

Nimbus, turning, saw it too — a long black line of coast ; 
and beyond it, rising dimly through the mist-laden atmos- 
phere, the huge forms of the snow Jokulls. An hour 
later they were close enough to it to distinguish the feat- 
ures of the forbidding-looking cliffs, pierced by deep fiords, 
and to begin to consider which of these they should enter. 

As they talked the matter over in low tones, awed by 
the impressiveness of the scene, and the unbroken stillness 
that brooded over it, Nimbus suddenly raised a warning 
hand, and his great ears seemed to prick forward with the 
intentness of listening. He leaned over the side of the 
dory until one of his ears was close to the water, and when 
he again raised his head he said, “ You hear um steam- 
boat ?” 


288 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Hear a what ?” exclaimed Breeze, for as yet he had 
heard nothing. 

“ Steamboat ! Yon no hear um steamboat coming?” 

“Ho, I’m sure I don’t, nor you either. There aren’t 
any steamboats in these waters. What you hear must be 
the surf on the rocks.” 

But Himbus insisted that he did hear a steamboat, and 
after a, while Breeze began to think that he too heard it. 
In a few minutes more there could be no doubt of it. It 
was the regular, unmistakable throb of a screw propeller ; 
and though they could not for some time be certain from 
which direction it came, it was surely approaching them, 
and renewed hope sprang within their breasts as they lis- 
tened to it. 

At length they saw a thick column of smoke rising be- 
yond a long promontory to the north of them, and soon 
afterwards the low, black hull and raking masts of a 
steam -yacht rounded the point and bore swiftly down 
upon them. 

For fear they would not be noticed, Breeze stood up 
and waved his hat. But there was no necessity for this. 
The yacht came as directly towards them as though their 
dory were the object for which it was steering, and it even 
began to look as though they were going to be run down. 
At last, when they could see the water jetting up like a 


THU YACHT CAME DIRECTLY TOWARDS THEM. 



/ 


\ 





Tempted from Duty . 289 

fountain before her sharp prow, and could distinguish the 
features of the seamen, who gazed curiously at them from 
over her hows, she sheered a little to one side, as though 
about to pass them. 

“ Stop ! Hold on !” screamed Breeze. “ Don’t go off 
and leave us !” 

“Well, by Jove! that’s odd,” said a young man who 
stood on the yacht’s bridge to an older one who occupied 
it with him, though of course those in the dory did not 
hear him ; “ I thought those fellows were native fisher- 
men, and here they are hailing us in English.” As he 
spoke, he gave a brass handle in front of him a quick 
pull. 

A gong clanged down in the engine-room, and almost 
instantly the motion of the screw was stopped. The mo- 
mentum of the yacht was so great that she was shooting 
past the dory, when two more strokes of the engine-room 
gong set the screw to backing furiously. A single stroke 
stopped it again, and the yacht lay motionless. 

“ What’s up, and what do you fellows want ?” demand- 
ed the young man, looking down into the dory from over 
the canvas side of the bridge. 

“We are lost from an American fishing schooner,” re- 
plied Breeze, “ and we are nearly starved, and we beg that 
you won’t go off and leave us.” 


290 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Leave you !” exclaimed the warm-hearted young Eng- 
lishman — for such he was — “ leave you here on this 
beastly coast ! Of course we won’t. Come right aboard, 
both of you. Mr. Marlin, be so good as to have the side- 
ladder lowered, and get those poor fellows on board.” 

A. minute later Breeze McCloud, once more rescued, in 
an almost miraculous manner, from a position of great 
peril, stood on the deck of the steel steam-yacht Saga , in 
which her owner was making a summer’s cruise in those 
far northern latitudes. 

Breeze had hardly reached the deck, and was about to 
speak to this gentleman, who was approaching him, when 
the gong in the engine-room clanged, and the vessel be- 
gan once more to move ahead. 

Just then came a most distressed cry from the side- 
ladder, on the lower step of which Nimbus was still stand- 
ing, holding the painter of the dory in his hand : 

“ Oh, de amble grease ! de amble grease !” 

“ What does the fellow say ?” asked the gentleman, in a 
perplexed tone, of Breeze. 

“ Oh, sir, won’t you have the yacht stopped again, be- 
fore she swamps our dory ? It’s full of ambergris,” cried 
Breeze, who had entirely forgotten the precious cargo of 
the boat he had just left. 

“ What! ambergris ? You don’t say so ! Yes, of course. 


291 


Tempted from Duty . 

Mr. Marlin, stop her at once, and get that queer-looking 
craft, with its cargo, on deck. Why, young man, if that 
stuff you’ve got in there is truly ambergris, you are carry- 
ing a small fortune about with you.” 

Acting under the orders of Mr. Marlin, the sailing-mas- 
ter of the yacht, half a dozen of her active, trimly dressed 
crew sprang to one of her quarter-boats, unhooked it from 
the davits, and took it in on deck. Then a couple of 
lines were passed entirely around the dory, which beside 
the dainty boats of the yacht looked to be a clumsy, ill- 
shaped craft, and it was lifted clear of the water, and 
swung up to the level of the rail. 

“ There,” said the gentleman ; “ your boat and its con- 
tents will be safe enough for the present. What did you 
say your name was ?” 

“I did not say,” replied Breeze, “but it is McCloud — 
Breeze McCloud.” 

“ And mine,” said the other, “ is Seabright.” 

“ Thank you,” said Breeze, “ and I’m very graceful to 
you for picking us up, Mr. Seabright.” 

The boy could not imagine why Lord Seabright stared 
at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing, at 
hearing himself thus addressed, for the first time in his 
life, as plain mister. 


292 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE STEAM- YACHT “ SAGA.” 

r J^HERE was something so gentlemanly in the appear- 
ance of Breeze McCloud that Lord Seabright at once 
noticed it ; and, in spite of the boy’s rough clothes, and 
declaration that he was one of the crew of an American 
fishing schooner, could not regard nor treat him as an 
ordinary fisher-lad. While Nimbus was sent forward, to 
be cared for in the forecastle and at the mess-table of 
the crew, Breeze was shown into the ward-room, or quar- 
ters occupied by the sailing-master, mate, and chief engi- 
neer of the yacht. Here the cabin steward was sent to 
him, with orders to make him as comfortable as possible. 

The first thing this individual noticed was that Breeze 
was soaked to the skin, and shivering as though in a chill, 
and he hurried away to find him some dry clothes. A 
few minutes later he returned with an old but complete 
yachting suit, belonging to Lord Seabright, which, as the 
latter was but a few years older than Breeze, and of about 
the same build, fitted the boy as though made for him. 
While he was changing his clothes in the tiny state- 



breeze’s welcome to the ‘‘saga.” 










293 


The Steam-yacht “Saga? 

room which he was told he might occupy as long as he 
remained on board the Saga, the steward spread a table 
with the remains of the cabin dinner, which, as it was 
now about half-past eight in the evening, had been just 
finished when the dory was picked up. 

As the steward announced that his dinner was ready, 
and asked him if he were not hungry, Breeze was re- 
minded of old Mateo, and his cheery “Yell, Breeza, ma 
boy, you hongry, eh?” It gave him a homesick feeling, 
and he thought how gladly he would, if he could, ex- 
change his present luxurious surroundings, in the com- 
pany of strangers, for the forecastle of the Fish-hawk , and 
its narrow mess-table surrounded by the faces of his 
friends. There is nothing more true than that the hum- 
blest abode in which are a person’s own people is a hap- 
pier place to him than a palace without them. 

Having eaten nothing since very early that morning, 
Breeze did not allow these thoughts to interfere in the 
slightest with his enjoyment of the meal set before him. 
To him it seemed one of the most sumptuous dinners he 
had ever sat down to, though the cabin steward apolo- 
gized for it, saying that their cook had unfortunately 
fallen overboard and been drowned while they were 
cruising off Jan -Mayen, and since then they had been 
obliged to get along as best they could. 


294 Dory Mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

It was wonderful to note how differently this man 
treated Breeze since he had appeared in Lord Seabright’s 
clothes. He had been kind before, but now he was re- 
spectful. All of which goes to show that, while clothes 
do not make the man, they have a great deal to do with 
the estimation in which he is held by strangers. Conse- 
quently it is very important that everybody, boys as 
well as men, should always dress as neatly and becoming- 
ly as their circumstances will allow. 

Lord Seabright always commanded his own yacht, in 
which he took great pride, and which he was capable of 
managing in every detail. Whatever this young man 
undertook he performed thoroughly, and at present he 
found his chief pleasure in yachting, a pursuit in which 
his great wealth enabled him to indulge without a thought 
of the expense attending it. This was the Sagais first 
cruise, and it had been extended as far northward as the 
wild land of Jan-Mayen, which is about two hundred 
miles nearer the north pole than Iceland. It is also a 
volcanic bubble of the earth’s crust, though much smaller 
and even more desolate than its neighbor on the south. 

Since leaving these, and reaching the coast of Iceland, 
the Saga had penetrated several of the deep northern 
fiords, and Lord Seabright had visited a number of the 
fire Jokulls, boiling sulphur springs, and other interest- 


295 


The Steam-yacht “ Saga 

ing objects and places of that part of the island. Now 
the yacht was on her way to Reykjavik, from which 
an inland expedition was to be made to the famous 
geysers. 

After Breeze had finished his dinner the steward in- 
formed him that his lordship would like to have a few 
words with him in the cabin. 

The cabin, or main saloon, was located as nearly as pos- 
sible in the centre of the yacht, though forward of the 
engines and boilers. As Breeze was ushered into it, he 
was for a moment bewildered by its elegance and its lux- 
urious appointments, which far surpassed anything he had 
ever dreamed of. Mirrors, carvings, silken curtains, rich 
furniture, velvet carpets, a sideboard glistening with silver, 
a small upright piano built into the oak wainscoting, an 
open fireplace with a chimney-piece of carved oak above 
it, a small library of choice books, and many other beauti- 
ful things, of which he did not know the names or uses, 
greeted the boy’s astonished gaze. Although it was still 
daylight outside, the sky was so overcast that the saloon 
would have been in comparative darkness had it not been 
for the floods of light coming from four opaque globes 
set into the ceiling and softening the electric flames that 
flashed behind them. 

As the saloon door was thrown open by the cabin stew* 


296 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

ard, and Breeze was confronted by all this blaze of light 
and color, he hesitated for a moment, and felt almost 
afraid to enter. Then the Yankee independence to which 
he had been educated asserted itself, and he stepped in- 
side the gorgeous apartment. 

Lord Seabright did not at first recognize the handsome, 
gentlemanly appearing fellow who, clad in a becoming 
blue yachting suit, now stood before him, and for an in- 
stant looked inquiringly at him. He had risen from the 
easy-chair in which he had been seated, and the moment 
he realized who the visitor was, he stepped forward, in- 
stinctively held out his hand to Breeze, and bade him 
welcome to the Saga. Then he introduced him to the 
only other occupant of the saloon, a tired-looking young 
man, who lay upon a lounge smoking. 

Without rising, this gentleman greeted Breeze with, 
“ Ah, pleased awfully ! Have a weed ?” 

“ Ho, I thank you,” replied Breeze, who could hardly 
help laughing. “ I have not learned to smoke yet.” 

“ Ah, good boy ! Advise you not to. Beastly habit. 
Rough on the constitution.” 

“ Oh, Whyte ! Whyte !” laughed his friend. “ If you 
would only practise the half of what you preach, what a 
fine fellow you would become !” 

“ Yes,” replied the other, “ I fancy my theory is very 


The Steam-yacht “ Saga .” 297 

nearly perfect, but it is really too much of a grind, don’t 
you know, to put it into practice. I’d rather let some 
other chap do that.” 

This was a fair example of Mr. Whyte Whymper’s char- 
acter. He was good-natured, easy-going, blessed with most 
excellent mental and physical qualities, but was too indo- 
lent to improve either the one or the other. He was not 
exactly the companion the owner of the Saga would have 
chosen for this northern trip, but several other friends 
had disappointed him at the last moment, and he was 
obliged to make the best of the one who was at liberty, 
and willing to accompany him. 

“ Well, McCloud,” said Lord Seabright, after a few mo- 
ments’ pleasant chat that served to make the boy feel 
quite at home, “ sit down and tell us how you and your 
black friend happened to get lost, and to be drifting about 
on the open sea in that queer-looking craft of yours. It 
strikes me that you were in a pretty nasty position, and 
I’m curious to hear about it.” 

Although Breeze confined his story to his experiences 
while on the Fish-hawk , and after leaving her, his hearers 
were much interested in what he had to tell them. They 
seemed 'to consider it a very plucky thing for a small 
schooner, such as he described, to cross the Atlantic for 
the purpose of fishing in those stormy northern seas, and 


298 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

they asked him many questions in regard to the American 
methods of fishing. 

“ What do you expect to do, now that you have lost 
your schooner?” asked Lord Seabright, at length. 

“ I don’t know, sir,” replied Breeze. “ If I knew of any 
way to find her again I’d try it ; but I can’t seem to 
think of any.” 

“ Neither can I, and I don’t see that there is anything 
for you to do but to come with us to Reykjavik and see 
what offers when you get there. Perhaps there will be 
some vessel in port bound for America, on which you can 
engage a passage.” 

“ Well, sir,” said Breeze, “ I suppose that will be the 
best thing for us to do, and we’ll be very glad to work 
our passage if you’ll let us. Nimbus is a good cook, nnd 
as yours got drowned, perhaps you can make him useful 
in that way. I am willing to do anything I can. At 
any rate,” he added, brightening at the thought, “if you’d 
take ambergris, we might pay for our passage in that.” 

Both the gentlemen were highly amused at this sug- 
gestion, and as soon as he could control his voice, Lord 
Seabright said, 

“ My dear fellow, yachts are not allowed to receive pay- 
ment for carrying passengers. Even if they were, you 
must not think so meanly of us as to fancy that we would 


The Steam-yacht “ Saga .” 299 

consider the aiding of distressed mariners any less of a 
pleasure than it is a duty. I shall be only too glad to 
employ your black friend, and if he proves a good cook 
will pay him liberal wages. As for yourself, it is a pleas- 
ure to have your company, and I am especially glad to 
have somebody on board who has been at least once into 
Reykjavik harbor, and can give us some information as to 
the channel and the place itself.” 

“ I shall be only too glad to do anything I can to earn 
my passage, and will give you all the information I have,” 
replied Breeze, “ but I am afraid it won’t amount to very 
much.” 

“ Whatever it is, I feel certain it will be worth the 
having,” said the other, politely, “ and now I move that 
we all turn in, and prepare by a good sleep for our grand 
entrance into the capital to-morrow.” 

After Breeze had gone, Lord Seabright remarked to his 
friend, “ I like that fellow, Whyte. He seems to be an 
uncommonly bright and manly sort of a chap.” 

“ Oh yes,” replied the other, indifferently. “ He’s not 
half bad for a Yankee.” 

After satisfying himself that Nimbus was comfortably 
provided for, and that the ambergris, upon which he was 
now building many hopes and no longer wished to ex- 
change for a loaf of bread, was safe, the tired boy sought 
22 


300 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

his bunk, feeling very grateful for the snug quarters in 
which he found himself. 

On the following day, Nimbus, to his own intense satis- 
faction, was installed in the galley, and given charge of 
more pots, pans, kettles, and other kitchen utensils than 
he had ever dreamed could exist in one ship. He also 
found that he had full authority to order about as he 
pleased, a young lad who filled the position of scullion in 
his department. With the gaining of this knowledge, he 
assumed such an air of dignity as made him appear com- 
ical enough to all eyes except those of the unfortunate 
boy for whose especial benefit it was put on. The origi- 
nality of the black man’s appearance was further in- 
creased by a white jacket, a large white apron, and a 
cook’s white linen cap. When this cap was perched on 
the back of his head it seemed to rest upon his immense 
ears ; while his grotesque thatch of wool projected several 
inches in front of it. In spite of the absurdity of his ap- 
pearance, he proved to be a capital cook, and managed his 
department in a manner thoroughly satisfactory to his 
new employer. The good-natured fellow’s sole regret, 
which he expressed to Breeze many times, was, that “ Dat 
ole rask Mateo ” could not see him in his present exalted 
station, “ at de head ob a camboose fit f o’ de King ob 
Africa hissef.” 


301 


The Steam-yacht “Saga” 

During this day, too, the grayish mass in the dory was 
pronounced to be ambergris, beyond a doubt, was carefully 
weighed, and stored in stout boxes made by the yacht’s 
carpenter. Its weight was found to be a few ounces over 
one hundred and twenty pounds, and Lord Seabright told 
Breeze that its value in the London market would not be 
far from fifty thousand dollars. 

Quite dazzled by the magnitude of this sum, Breeze for 
a while thought of himself as a young man of fortune, and 
indulged in delightful dreams of what he would do with 
the money as soon as it came into his possession. Sud- 
denly the remembrance of Nimbus came upon him like a 
blow. Was not the black man, who had been his faithful 
dorymate, entitled to an equal share in it ? Of course he 
was, though it was with reluctance that Breeze admitted 
the fact to himself. Still, even such a division would 
leave him twenty -five thousand dollars. It would be 
enough to purchase several fishing vessels, and make him 
a person of considerable prominence in Gloucester. 

The thought of Gloucester brought another with it. 
On what terms was the fishing business carried on there ? 
Was it not on the basis of one-half the catch to the vessel 
and half to the crew ? To be sure it was, and this amber- 
gris was one of the incidental profits of the Fish-hawWs 
voyage to Iceland, But, then, had not he and Nimbus 


302 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

found it all by themselves and risked their lives in ob- 
taining and saving it ? It would be easy enough to sell it, 
keep the money, and say nothing about it. 

So, locked in his tiny state-room, the boy struggled with 
the right and the wrong of this question for more than an 
hour. Finally the right triumphed, and when he became 
conscious of the fact, Breeze felt as light-hearted and happy 
as though he had been crushed under the whole weight of 
fifty thousand dollars in gold, and it had suddenly been 
lifted from him. 

When, soon afterwards, he was congratulated by Mr. 
Whyte Whymper upon the amount of his fortune, he re- 
plied, “ Yes, sir, seventeen hundred dollars is a good deal 
of money for a boy like me to have at once.” 

“ Seventeen hundred dollars !” exclaimed the other. 
“ Why, I thought it was ten thousand pounds ?” 

“ So it is, sir, in all ; but, according to Gloucester rule, 
half of it goes to the schooner, and the other half must be 
divided among her crew of twelve others besides Nimbus 
and myself.” 

When he made this statement of the case to his black 
dory mate, he was put to shame by discovering that the 
honest fellow had never taken any other view of it. 

At the same time Mr. Whyte Whymper was sajdng to 
Lord Seabright, “ I have just discovered that our young 


303 


The Steam-yacht “Saga." 

Yankee friend is possessed of a degree of honesty that, to 
me, would he worth all his other good qualities put to- 
gether.” 

About noon the yacht passed the Snafells and entered 
the waters of Faxa Fiord. As she approached Reykjavik, 
and began to thread her way among the islands that en- 
close its harbor, Breeze stood on the bridge with Lord Sea- 
bright and Mr. Marlin. He had already pointed out on the 
chart the course taken by the Fish-hawk a few days be- 
fore, and the same one was now held by the Saga. There 
was one very narrow channel that Breeze bore in partic- 
ular remembrance on account of the huge, isolated mass 
of lava that had risen from and partially leaned over one 
side of it. Both he and Captain Coffin had wondered if 
it might not some time topple over and block the passage. 
How he looked for it in vain. Could he be mistaken in 
the place ? Again he studied the chart intently. Ho, the 
other landmarks were all right, but this one had disap- 
peared. The Saga was just about to enter the channel. 
He was not absolutely sure that he was right, but he felt 
impelled to call out, “ Stop her, sir ! Stop her, please, and 
back her !” 

“ Why, what is the matter, McCloud ?” exclaimed Lord 
Seabright, as he complied with this request and rang the 
engine-room bell. 


304 Dory motes : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

When Breeze had told them of his fears Mr. Marlin went 
with a boat’s crew to sound the channel. Upon his return 
he reported an ugly rock rising to within a few feet of the 
surface, almost in the middle of it, with deep water on 
both sides. 

So the Saga , which was carefully worked through the 
narrow place to one side of the danger, was saved from 
almost certain wreck only by Breeze McCloud’s keen ob- 
servation and retentive memory. They afterwards learned 
that the huge mass of rock had fallen into the sea with a 
tremendous crash on that very day. 

Although hospitably received and entertained by the 
governor and other members of Reykjavik society, the 
two English gentlemen were almost as much disappointed 
in the Icelandic capital as Breeze had been on his former 
visit to it. Lord Seabright, however, anticipated great 
pleasure from the proposed trip to the geysers, and hur- 
ried forward the preparations for it as rapidly as possible. 
His friend was by no means so enthusiastic as he, and 
finally decided that he would rather remain in comfortable 
quarters on board the Saga than to undertake the tedious 
journey to the geysers merely for the sake of seeing what 
he termed a fountain of boiling water. 

Nothing could alter this decision, and finally, declaring 
him to be altogether too lazy to live, Lord Seabright 


305 


The Steam-yacht “Saga” 

turned to Breeze and said, “ Will you go with me in his 
place, McCloud? I know the invitation comes rather 
late ; but if you will overlook that, and accept it, I shall 
be most happy to have your company on this trip to the 
geysers.” 


306 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 


CHAPTER XXin. 


PONIES AND GEYSERS 


S there were no vessels in the harbor of Reykjavik, 



save one that was taking in a cargo of ponies for 
Norway, besides the native fishing boats, and Breeze saw 
no chance of returning to America at present, he gladly 
accepted Lord Seabright’s invitation to accompany him 
to the geysers. 

Nimbus was to go, of course, to cook for the little ex- 
pedition, and he looked forward with considerable anxiety 
to mounting and riding one of the shaggy little ponies 
that he had treated with such contempt upon the occa- 
sion of his former visit to the capital. He had never rid- 
den on horseback in his fife ; but it was certain he must 
do so now if he expected to reach the geysers, for his own 
short legs would never carry him that distance, and there 
was not a wagon, cart, or carriage to be had in all Ice- 
land. So horseback it must be, or not go at all ; and 
during the several days of preparation for the trip, Nim- 
bus occasionally went on shore, and gazed in silence and 


307 


Ponies and Geysers. 

sadness at the little shaggy monsters that were being col- 
lected by the guide, evidently trying to determine upon 
which one of them it would be safest to trust himself. 

The guide was a grave, fresh-faced young Icelander 
named Haik Gierssen, who had conducted tourists to the 
geysers ever since he had been old enough to do so, and 
whose father, Gier Zoega, had been a guide before him. 
He had undertaken to buy the ponies for the expedition, 
and in consequence was the most eagerly sought man in 
the town. Everybody had ponies to sell; and though 
the trip would probably occupy less than a week, it was 
necessary to carry tents, provisions, blankets, and extra 
clothing, even for that short time, and they must all be 
carried on ponyback. Thus, for the party of four, includ- 
ing the guide, twelve ponies were required, two apiece to 
be alternately ridden and rested over the rough roads, and 
four to carry the camp outfit. It is necessary to travel 
thus in Iceland, because there are no hotels on the whole 
island but the one at ^Reykjavik. The country-people 
are very hospitable, and will gladly share with a stranger 
the best they have ; but they are also very poor, and most 
of their huts are so small and filthy that one is not apt to 
accept their kind offers of food and shelter more than once. 

At last all was in readiness, and the morning set for the 
departure arrived. It was dreary, wet, and chilly ; but in 


308 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

spite of all that, an enthusiastic and curious crowd of 
towns-people had assembled to see them start. They were 
principally attracted by the sight of Nimbus, who had 
become quite a celebrity among them, and whom they re- 
garded as by far the most important personage of the 
party. Breeze had found it hard to persuade his black 
dorymate to leave behind the white cap, jacket, and 
apron, which were his robes of office. Nimbus had final- 
ly yielded, and in their place now wore a fisherman’s sou’- 
wester, with ear-tabs to it, tied firmly on his head, a mon- 
key-jacket the sleeves of which were several inches too 
short for his long arms, white duck trousers, and a pair of 
the carpet slippers, run down at the heel, without which 
no sea cook is happy. 

The moment he found himself on the pony’s back, from 
which his short legs stuck out almost at right angles, 
Nimbus leaned down over the animal’s neck, twined both 
hands into its shaggy mane, and resigned himself to his 
fate. He could not be induced to hold the bridle, and 
would not have known what to do with it if he had. All 
the pack-ponies and spare animals were fastened, each to 
the tail of the one in front, to keep them from straying. 
As Nimbus was evidently incapable of steering his, it was 
made fast to the tail of the last pack-pony, and thus the 
unhappy cook brought up the rear of the procession. 


309 


Ponies and Geysers . 

At last, with much cracking of his leathern whip and 
shoutings of “ Hur-r-r ! hur-r-r !” and “ Ga, ga !” (go on), 
the guide succeeded in getting the long line of ponies 
started. As Nimbus clung for dear life to his, the comi- 
cal workings of his face aroused the spectators to yells of 
applause and shouts of laughter. It was more like a cir- 
cus than anything they had ever before seen. So amid 
the cheers of the multitude, the barking of dogs, the crack- 
ing of whips, and the squealing of the ponies, the party clat- 
tered through the rough streets of the fishy, evil-smelling 
town into the rougher roads of the black, desolate-looking 
country beyond, and were fairly off for the geysers. 

These are about sixty miles inland, and nearly due east 
from Reykjavik. They are the largest and most famous 
objects of their kind in the world, even surpassing in size 
and the wildness of their surroundings those of our own 
Yellowstone Park, or the valley of the Russian River in 
California. 

The road for the first day’s journey led over rugged 
lava plains, up and down the foot-hills of the snow-capped 
Jokulls, and most of the time through a country so barren 
as to contain no trace of human occupation. It often 
skirted dark lagoons and quaking bogs dotted with queer 
head-like tussocks of grass. In one of these poor Nimbus 
came to grief. 


310 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

For greater ease in travelling, the ponies had been un- 
fastened from each other when they had got some miles 
out from Reykjavik, and were urged to proceed at full 
gallop over the rough roads. This drew forth groans of 
anguish from Nimbus, who felt that he would not be able 
to retain his seat from one moment to another. He 
tugged at the pony’s mane, dug his heels into its ribs, 
and finally so worked upon its feelings that it laid back 
its ears, and turned directly towards one of the black bot- 
tomless bogs, of which there were several in that vicinity. 
In vain did the unhappy rider shout “ Whoa !” and in vain 
did the others pursue the flying beast. It would not stop 
until it began to feel the soft ground of the bog under its 
feet, and then it drew up so suddenly that its rider was 
flung far over its head, and landed at full length in the 
treacherous mud. 

Dismounting and tossing his bridle to Breeze to hold, 
the guide, skipping from tussock to tussock, quickly made 
his way to where Nimbus was wallowing, in imminent 
danger of being suffocated. He got a rope under the 
negro’s arms, and the others, catching hold of it, literally 
dragged him ashore. Here he sputtered and choked and 
rolled his eyes, and dripped mud from every point, and 
presented such a woe -begone and ridiculous aspect that 
even the grave Icelander laughed at the sight. As for 


YOU OUGHT TO HAVE WORN A DIVING SUIT, NIMBUS, SAID BREEZE 


♦ * 











Ponies and Geysers . 3 1 1 

Breeze, his excess of merriment caused the tears to roll 
down his cheeks, and he had hardly strength enough to 
help scrape the worst of the mud from the comical figure. 

“ You ought to have worn a diving suit, Nimbus,” he 
exclaimed between his outbursts of laughter. 

“ Oh, g’way now, young cap’n. You oughter be 
’shamed makin’ fun er ole Nim when he in a heap er 
trouble. I tell you, sah, dis cruisin’ on dry lan’ ’s danger- 
some work, an’ ef ebber ole Nim git back to salt-water 
he stick to um.” 

As a precaution against further mishaps of this nature, 
they lashed him fast to his pony after the manner of a 
pack, and once more the procession was got under way. 

• That afternoon they passed through a wonderful gorge 
known as the Almannajau, with sides of shining black 
lava rising as sheer and regular as though it had been 
hewn out by giants. Beyond it lay the valley of Thing- 
valla, showing scattered patches of fresh green grass upon 
which sheep were grazing. In t stood admail church, 
and the house, or rath cluster of huts, in which dwelt 
the pastor of Thingvalla and his numerous family. 

They camped for the night beside the church, though 
the hospitable pastor begged them to consider his dwell- 
ing as theirs for as long as they chose to use it, and urged 
them at least to sleep in his Badstove, or guest-chamber. 


312 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

One breath of the foul, suffocating air of the interior of 
the house was enough for Lord Seabright, and to the 
great relief of his young companion, he courteously de- 
clined in very good Latin the proffered hospitality. 

As fuel was one of the scarcest articles in that vicinity, 
they accepted a pot of coffee from the pastor’s wife, and 
made their dinner from it and what cold provisions they 
had brought along. They tried to eat some of the bowl 
of skeyer, or cheese curds, which the good man pressed 
upon them ; but it was so rank that they were unable to 
swallow a single mouthful. It was thereupon turned over 
to Gierssen, who found no difficulty in eating the whole 
bowlful. In return for these favors, Lord Seabright pre- 
sented the pastor with several tins of meat, with which 
he was greatly pleased, and for which he expressed thanks 
in the choicest Latin. 

The next morning, after poor Nimbus, stiff, aching in 
every joint, and groaning at the hard fate that had dragged 
him thus far away from the sea, had been lashed firmly 
to his pony, an early start was made. For a few miles 
the riding was comparatively smooth, and then the road 
plunged into the most awful country ever traversed by men 
and horses. It became an indistinct trail only marked by 
occasional piles of stones, and the savage region through 
which it led was torn and rent to pieces as though it had 


Ponies and Geysers . 3 1 3 

been the battle-ground of demons. It was inconceivably 
blasted, scorched, and strewn with chaotic masses of lava. 
It was traversed in every direction by deep chasms, be- 
tween which the trail, often but a few feet wide, wound 
its perilous way, and into which a single misstep would 
have hurled horse and rider, to be lost beyond recovery. 
Numerous rushing torrents were forded, and in one foam- 
ing river, the Bruara, a bottomless fissure cleft in the mid- 
dle of its channel was crossed on a bridge of planks that 
were actually laid below the surface of the water and 
were not seen until they were reached. 

The frightful nature of this journey at first drew from 
poor Nimbus groans, prayers, and entreaties to be left 
where he was and not taken any farther into what he 
termed “ de home ob ole Satan hissef.” Finally he closed 
his eyes, and passively allowed himself to be borne on- 
ward to what he believed was certain destruction. 

It was a tedious day’s ride; but after passing the 
Bruara the country became somewhat better, and showed 
occasional little green valleys, in one of which the travel- 
lers rested for an hour and ate their luncheon. Here and 
there lonely huts were passed, and some flocks and herds 
were seen, as well as an occasional human being in the 
distance. Finally they reached the world-famed valley 
of the geysers, where, within a space of half a mile, some 
23 


314 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

forty or fifty springs of all sizes and shapes boiled, bub- 
bled, and sent up clouds of steam and sulphurous vapors. 

Of them all, the two best worth seeing are the Great 
Geyser and the Strokhr, or churn. The latter can be 
made to go off, but the former only displays his superb 
fountains of boiling water when it pleases him to do so. 
Often tourists have waited near him for days, and then 
been compelled to leave without having seen an eruption. 

A camping-place was selected on a plot of grass but a 
short distance from the basin of the Great Geyser, the 
tents were pitched, and Nimbus, with his spirits somewhat 
restored by reaching the journey’s end, began to cook 
dinner. He had no need to make a fire, and there was 
nothing to make it with if he had wanted one. He sim- 
ply followed Haik Gierssen’s directions, and made coffee, 
tea, and a delicious soup in a boiling caldron of beautifully 
clear water that hissed and steamed on a rocky ledge a 
few yards back of the tents. Nimbus would not believe 
it was hot enough to cook meat, until he had made a test 
by thrusting a finger into it. Then the howl of pain with 
which he snatched back his hand convinced the others 
that he was fully satisfied with his experiment. 

While he was preparing dinner the others busied them- 
selves in cutting sods with which to make the Strokhr 
“ sick,” as Haik Gierssen said. 


Ponies and Geysers . 3 1 5 

Breeze did not understand what he meant ; but he was 
one of those rare boys who would rather wait a little for 
information that he was sure would come to him, than 
to try and force it by useless questions ; so he held his 
tongue, and busily cut sods with the others. 

The Strokhr is a funnel-shaped hole in the rock, about 
six feet across at the top, in which, some twenty feet be- 
low the surface, water boils and tumbles uneasily. In its 
depths are heard groans and rumblings, while occasional 
jets of hissing steam and upward rushes of water indicate 
its great uneasiness and desire to burst from its rocky 
prison. 

After a huge pile of sods had been cut and stacked on 
its edge, Haik Gierssen said there was enough to make 
him very sick, and pushed them all into the steaming 
opening. 

A terrible commotion followed, and peering over the 
edge, they could see the sods swirling and dashing about 
in the angry waters, while the rumblings and roarings 
were louder than ever. Suddenly, almost without warn- 
ing, a vast column of ink-black water, flecked with foam 
and dotted with sods, was belched forth and shot up near- 
ly a hundred feet into the air. It was a magnificent sight, 
and looked like a hundred fountains joined in one, and 
surrounded by clouds of steam and hissing spray. 


3 1 6 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

The spectators sprang back, and running for dear life, 
were barely beyond reach of the boiling torrents as they 
fell back, drenching the ground for fifty feet about the 
mouth of this terrible churn. Again and again did the 
vast column of water shoot upward, as though the Strokhr 
had been made deadly sick by the sod pills administered 
to it and was determined to get rid of them. It was a 
fearful yet fascinating exhibition of the hidden forces of 
nature, and Lord Seabright said that if he saw nothing 
more of the geysers he should feel fully repaid for all the 
hardships of the trip by this one display. 

To Breeze it was so marvellous that he could find no 
words to express his awe and delight at the wonderful 
phenomenon. 

The effect of the eruption upon poor Nimbus was such, 
that after one glance at it he threw himself, face down- 
ward, flat upon the ground, where he lay kicking and 
screaming with fright long after it had subsided. 

The eruptions were continued at intervals through the 
night, and the sleep of the tired travellers was sadly 
broken by the heavings and groanings of the monster 
whom they had made so sick. Towards morning, in the 
midst of these, a heavy booming sound, apparently far 
down in the depths of the earth, was added to the other 
weird noises of this uncanny place, and a shout from the 


Ponies and Geysers. 317 

guide warned them that something important was about 
to happen. As they sprang from their tent there was a 
tremendous report, as of a park of artillery, and before 
them, sparkling in the red light of the newly risen sun, 
towered the vast watery mass of the Great Geyser. It 
was snowy white, in striking contrast to the blackness 
of the Strokhr, and sprang upward in a series of great 
domes. For ten minutes they stood fascinated by the 
superb exhibition, then, with a few gurgling gasps, the 
waters sank back into their underground boilers, and the 
show was over. 

There was nothing more to wait for. They had been so 
unusually fortunate as to see both the Great Geyser and 
the Strokhr within a few hours, and so long as they lived 
the marvellous fountains would remain with them as vivid 
mind -pictures. How, to hasten back to the Saga, and 
leave this dreary land of lire and snow, ice, and boiling 
waters behind them' as soon as possible was the one desire 
both of Lord Seabright and Breeze. 

The companionship and strange experiences of this trip 
had drawn the English lord and the Yankee fisher-lad to- 
gether with a feeling that, had their stations in life been 
more equal, would have been a warm friendship ; and on 
their way back to Keykjavik the one invited the other to 
be his guest for a while longer. 


3 1 8 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

“ Come to England with us, McCloud,” said Lord Sea^ 
bright. “ There you can sell your ambergris, get the best 
market price for it, and go home by steamer whenever you 
choose. If you stay here you may have to wait in the 
beastly place a year before finding a chance to go to 
America.” 

Of course this kind offer was gratefully accepted by 
Breeze, who only asked that he might be set ashore at 
Queenstown, in Ireland. 


A Dory mate's Home. 


3i9 




CHAPTER XXIY. 


a dokymate’s home. 


POX accepting Lord Seabright’s offer of a passage to 



^ England in the Saga , Breeze had instantly thought of 
Ireland, and of Queenstown, the home of his beloved dory- 
mate, Wolfe Brady. Amid all the strangeness of the Old 
World, it was pleasant to think that there were at least 
two people in it who, for the sake of their boy, would be 
glad to see him. Then, too, they would have heard from 
Wolfe by this time, and thus he would learn the home 
news for which he so longed. So, just now, Queenstown 
seemed the most desirable place in all Europe for him to 
visit; and Breeze was made happy by Lord Seabright’s 
answer, which was, 

“ Why, certainly ; we can run into Queenstown if you 
must go there. It will not be far out of our course to 
Cowes. But whatever can you want to go there for ?” 

When Breeze explained that the only friends he had on 
that side of the Atlantic lived there, he could see that the 


320 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks, 

other was wondering what sort of people his friends could 
be to live in Queenstown. 

When, on the fifth day after leaving it, the little cav- 
alcade of tired men and weary ponies clattered back into 
Reykjavik, the place really seemed quite like a town, as 
compared with the wilderness they had just traversed, 
and they wondered they had not noticed before how much 
there was going on in it. Poor Nimbus feasted his eyes 
on the sea, and drew in long breaths of the salt and fishy 
air. The moment he was unlashed from his pony, al- 
though he was almost too stiff and lame to walk, he wad- 
dled off towards the landing. 

While Lord Seabright was having a settlement of ac- 
counts with Haik Gierssen, and Breeze was collecting the 
articles that were to be returned on board the Saga, they 
both heard strange rumors of a fire that had taken place 
in the town the night before. Their informants told them 
excitedly about a certain stranger who, at the peril of his 
own life, had saved three of the inmates of the burning 
building, and then mysteriously disappeared. 

“ He was a plucky fellow, whoever he was, and I wish 
we had been here to help him,” was Lord Seabright’s 
comment upon this story. 

When all the business had been settled, and they re- 
turned once more to the Saga , the yacht seemed to Breeze 


A Dory mate's Home. 321 

delightfully home-like and comfortable, and he was more 
than ever glad that his cruise on her was to be extended. 
Nimbus was already hard at work in the galley, from 
which came a happy clatter of pots and pans,* and the 
tones of his voice as he told his awe-stricken young assist- 
ant marvellous tales of his thrilling adventures and hair- 
breadth escapes during the trip to the geysers. 

“ But where is Mr. Whymper ?” asked Lord Seabright 
of Mr. Marlin, who replied that the gentleman was turned 
in, recovering from his recent exertions. 

“ Lazy dog !” exclaimed his friend ; “ I’ll soon stir him 
up.” And after giving orders for the yacht to put to sea, 
he went below. As he entered the saloon, Mr. Whyte 
Whymper, who was lying on a lounge, threw down the 
semi-monthly Beykjavik paper, which, as it was wholly 
printed in Icelandic, he had been trying in vain to read, 
and exclaimed, 

“ Awfully glad you’ve come back, old fellow ! Haven’t 
had a thing to do since you left except read this stoopid 
paper. Went ashore once, but got mixed up in a beastly 
row, and haven’t been olf the ship since. Awfully glad, 
’pon honor. What sort of a trip have you had ? and how 
did our young Yankee friend enjoy it ?” 

“ What sort of a row did you get into ?” inquired Lord 
Seabright, without answering these questions, and gazing 


322 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

suspiciously at the bandages with which his friend’s head 
and hands were swathed. “ Was it in connection with a 
fire?” 

“ Welh, yes,” admitted the other, hesitatingly, “ it was a 
sort of a fire, and some children were left in rather an 
uncomfortable position, because the beggars outside were 
too stoopid to know what to do.” 

“ And you showed them ?” 

“ Yes, I put them up to a wrinkle that I thought might 
be useful to them at some future time.” 

“ Whyte, you are a splendid fellow !” exclaimed Lord 
Seabright, enthusiastically. “ You saved those children’s 
lives at the risk of your own, and then hurried away to 
avoid being thanked for it. After this I’d like to hear 
anybody call you lazy and selfish again !” With this he 
stepped forward to grasp his friend’s hand. 

“ Keep back ! No demonstrations ! Hands off !” cried 
the other, apprehensively drawing back his bandaged 
members. “ My flippers are still a little tender.” 

And no wonder ; for the poor brave hands were so ter- 
ribly burned that they would be scarred and disfigured 
for life. 

“ I tell you, it made me feel more than ever proud 
of being an Englishman,” said Lord Seabright, in talk- 
ing of the affair to Breeze, “ to §ee the pluck with which 


A Dorymate's Home. 323 

that fellow concealed his sufferings, and made light of 
them.” 

This incident taught Breeze that appearances are often 
very deceitful, and first impressions are apt to be unjust 
ones ; also, that some of the noblest natures are only de- 
veloped by extraordinary circumstances. 

After steaming out of the harbor, and rounding Cape 
Reykjaines, the Saga skirted the wild southern coast of 
Iceland, with Mount Hecla in sight, for nearly a day. 
Then, turning due south, she was headed for the Faroe 
Islands. This rocky group of thirty-five small islands, of 
which about twenty are inhabited, belongs to Denmark, 
and lies half-way between Iceland and Scotland. It was 
intended that the Saga should stop here for a day or two, 
and remain in the picturesque harbor of Thorshavn, on 
Stromoe Island, the largest of the group, while her pas- 
sengers explored the surrounding waters and country. 
Now, on account of the serious nature of Mr. Whyte 
Whymper’s injuries, which demanded skilful medical at- 
tention, this plan was abandoned, and the yacht was 
urged with all possible speed towards England. 

After the Faroes, the Shetland Islands were passed, 
then the Orkneys, and a day later the Saga sailed through 
the channel known as the Minch, between the Hebrides 
and the main-land of Scotland. Then down, past the 


324 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

western islands, through the north channel between Scot- 
land and Ireland, across the Irish Sea, close to the Isle of 
Man, and finally, five days after leaving Reykjavik, she 
steamed into the mouth of the Mersey, and came to an 
anchor off the Liverpool docks. 

Here it was decided that the injured man must be at 
once removed to London, and although he still made 
light of his wounds, Lord Seabright insisted upon accom- 
panying him and seeing that he was properly cared for. 
He ordered Mr. Marlin to take the yacht to Queens- 
town, where he would try and rejoin him within a day or 
two. 

To Breeze he said, “ Of course you will go to Queens- 
town with the yacht, McCloud, and if you fail to find 
your friends, you are to make yourself as comfortable as 
you can aboard until I come. Then we shall run around 
to Cowes, from which place it will be easy to send your 
ambergris up to London and dispose of it.” 

Breeze was very grateful for the great kindness shown 
him by this young Englishman, and tried to tell him so, 
but was checked by “ Oh, nonsense, man ! Don’t give it 
a thought. It’s no more than you would do if you were 
in my place, and I in yours, and no more than any true 
sailor would do for another whom he found in trouble. 
I should apologize to you for running off and leaving you 


A Dory mate' s Home . 325 

in this way, but that you understand the necessity of the 
case as well as I.” 

By this kindness and politeness to one who was appar- 
ently so greatly his inferior in social station, as well as 
almost a stranger to him, Lord Seabright proved himself 
a thorough gentleman by breeding as well as by birth ; 
for a true gentleman will treat with equal courtesy all 
persons worthy of respect with whom he is thrown in 
contact. 

A few hours after she had entered the Mersey the 
Saga sailed out again, and stood down the Irish Sea, with 
Breeze McCloud as her only passenger. Had he been a 
young prince he could not have travelled more luxuriously. 
Sitting alone in the beautiful saloon, and surrounded by 
all its luxury, it was with . a curious sensation that he 
traced the wonderful chain of events that had led him 
from the forecastle of the old fishing schooner Vixen to 
this exquisitely appointed yacht. 

The following day the Saga steamed into the magnifi- 
cent harbor of Queenstown, ran up past the forts, and 
dropped anchor near a huge American steamer, just in 
from New York, that was sending ashore her mails and 
a number of passengers. These, and those who remained 
on board the great steamer, gazed with admiration at the 
dainty yacht, and many of them cast envious glances at 


326 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

the young man standing on her bridge, whom they imag- 
ined to be her owner. 

Breeze waited until after dinner before leaving the 
yacht. Then he was set ashore in the gig, which Mr. 
Marlin said would be sent for him whenever he should 
come down to the landing and blow the shrill little 
silver whistle that he loaned him. 

Breeze had no sooner stepped ashore than he was sur- 
rounded by a clamorous throng of men, who wanted him 
fco ride in a jaunting-car, or take a carriage for the Queen’s 
hotel, who would show him all the sights of the city, in- 
cluding the new cathedral, for a shilling, or would serve 
him in any way he chose to name. 

Now, for the first time Breeze remembered that he had 
not a cent of money in his pockets, and anxious to get rid 
of his noisy persecutors, he pushed his way through the 
crowd as quickly as possible, without paying any regard 
to where he was going. He did not wholly escape the 
attentions showered upon him, for one old woman suc- 
ceeded in thrusting a bit of shamrock into a button-hole 
of his coat, and evidently expected to be paid for so doing. 
Breeze thanked her politely, but did not succeed in get- 
ting rid of her, until he had walked rapidly through sev- 
eral short, steep, and remarkably dirty streets, when he 
found himself in the main business street of the city, 


THOSE ON BOARD THE GREAT STEAMER GAZED WITH ADMIRATION AT THE DAINTY YACHT 















A Dory mate's Home. 32 7 

Here he asked a man if he could tell him where Mr. 
Brady’s store was. 

“ Is it Mike Brady the tinman, yer honor ’ll be wantin’ 
to find \ or Pat that kapes the grane-grocery ? or mayhap 
’tis Tim the alderman who has no thrade at all, excipt for 
the bit of law he do pick up ?” 

Breeze said he did not think it was any of these, for the 
one he wanted to find sold linen. 

“ Thin ’tis Peter the Squire you’ll be manin’ ; and by 
the same token, his is the shop f’ninst ye, across the way.” 

Breeze afterwards learned that, having held some small 
political office, Wolfe’s father had been dignified by his 
fellow-townsmen with the title of “ Squire.” He was very 
proud of this, and always insisted upon being addressed 
by it. 

Now, looking in the direction indicated, the lad saw 
the sign, “ Peter Brady, Linen Draper,” staring him in the 
face, and thanking the man, he hurried across the street. 

An old porter, who was putting up the shutters, told him 
that the squire had driven away in a carriage a few min- 
utes before with a stranger, and had left word that he 
should not be back that night. 

Where did he live ! Why, about two miles from there, 
away out on the edge of the city, but a cab would take 
him there in no time. 

24 


3 28 Dorymates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

There were no cabs for Breeze that evening, and so he 
walked, and inquired his way from one and another. At 
last, after more than two hours’ persevering labor, he 
found himself lifting the knocker of a small but neat- 
looking house some distance outside of the town, in which 
he had been told that Squire Brady lived. 

The maid who answered the knock said the squire was 
at home, and wouldn’t the gentleman step into the parlor. 
When she asked what name she should announce, he told 
her to say that it was a friend of the son who was in 
America. 

After she had gone, he could not help overhearing a 
whispered consultation that took place in the hall. While 
he was wondering about it, a quick footstep approached 
the room, and the next moment the door was opened by 
his old dorymate, Wolfe Brady. 

It would be hard to tell which of the two boys was 
the more astonished at this meeting. Perhaps Wolfe had 
the better reason for amazement, at seeing the friend 
from whom he had been parted thousands of miles from 
there, under circumstances that led him to fear he was 
dead. 

“ Breeze !” 

“ Wolfe !” 

These were the only words the dorymates uttered for a 


A Dorymate'' s Home . 329 

full minute, as they stood holding each other’s hand, and 
gazing into each other’s face. 

“How do you happen to be here?” asked Breeze at 
length. 

“ Oh, my coming is simple enough,” answered Wolfe. 
“ I got a thousand dollars salvage money for helping to 
carry that brig into port, and thinking I woulcl like to see 
father and mother once more, I came. I only just got in 
on the steamer from New York. But where in the name 
of all that’s wonderful did you come from, and how ?” 

“ I,” said Breeze, “ have just got in from Iceland on the 
steam-yacht Saga.” Then in a few words he gave his 
friend the briefest possible outline of his adventures since 
their parting. 

“ Well !” exclaimed Wolfe, when he had finished, “ if it 
doesn’t beat the ‘ Arabian Nights,’ or ‘ Kobinson Crusoe,’ 
or anything else I ever heard of, then I’m a mackerel. 
And to think that I should stand on that steamer’s deck 
and watch you sail into the harbor only three hours since, 
and not know it was you any more than Adam ! But I 
must tell father and mother. They’re nearly crazy al- 
ready from seeing me, and I only hope it won’t upset 
them entirely when I tell them who you are.” 

If it did not quite upset them, it certainly did greatly 
agitate the stout, ruddy-cheeked Irishman, and his equally 


330 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

stout but pleasant-faced wife, whom Wolfe introduced as 
his father and mother, to meet the person who had saved 
their son’s life. 

The latter started when she saw Breeze, and after shak- 
ing hands with him, and thanking him profusely for all 
that he had done for her boy, she sat down and gazed at 
him keenly whenever he was not looking at her. 

Her husband, too, appeared to be greatly interested in 
the lad’s face, and although cordial and hospitable in the 
extreme, he seemed uneasy in his presence. When he 
learned that Breeze had come in on the Saga , he remarked 
to his wife that she was Lord Seabright’s yacht. 

“ You know him ?” asked Breeze, innocently. 

“ To be sure I do,” answered the other. “ I’ve known 
him since the day he was born. Sir Wolfe was his grand- 
father on his mother’s side, and it’s likely our boy has told 
you how intimately we were connected with Sir Wolfe’s 
family.” 

Breeze acknowledged that Wolfe had told him. 

About this time the “ squire” disappeared for a few 
minutes, and when he returned he was followed by the 
maid bearing a tray, on which were a plate of biscuit and 
some bottles and glasses. 

Filling the glasses with wine from one of the bottles, 
the master of the house said, “ I want to propose the 


33i 


A Doryntate' s Home . 

health of the distinguished visitor from across the ocean, 
who honors our humble home with his presence to-night. 
I refer to Mr. Breeze McCloud.” 

As Wolfe instinctively stretched out his hand towards 
one of the glasses, Breeze said, in a low tone, “ Point true, 
Wolfe.” 

Wolfe’s face flushed, as he quickly withdrew his hand, 
saying, “ Thank you, Breeze. I own I had almost for- 
gotten.” 

At the same time, both the squire and his wife set 
down their untasted glasses, and the latter, turning to 
Breeze, said, in a trembling voice, “ May I ask you, sir, 
where you heard them words ?” 

“ I did not hear them,” answered Breeze, “ but I saw 
them ; and if you are at all interested I can show them 
to you; for, oh, Wolfe!” he added, turning to his dory- 
mate, “ I have learned the secret of the golden ball.” 

With this he unclasped the slender chain from about 
his neck, opened the locket, and handed it to Wolfe’s 
mother. 

She cast one glance at it, uttered an exclamation of joy, 
and very nearly fainted from the excess of her emotion. 


332 D ory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 


CHAPTER XXV. 

STARTLING DISCOVERIES. 

T 3 REEZE stared in amazement at Wolfe’s mother, and 
wondered what could possibly have affected her so 
greatly. Wolfe sprang to her side and helped her into a 
chair; while the squire, who had caught the golden ball 
as it was about to drop from his wife’s hand, now gazed 
at it as intently as though it were some charm that fasci- 
nated him. 

“ What is it, mother?” inquired Wolfe, anxiously. 

“ The Tresmont coat of arms,” she answered, faintly, 
“ and the very locket my young lady gave to Mr. Tris- 
tram just after they were married. Oh, tell me, sir,” she 
said, turning to Breeze, “ how did it come into your keep- 
ing ? and what do you know of them it belonged to ?” 

“ It has belonged to me,” answered Breeze, “ since be- 
fore I knew anything ; for it was clasped about my neck 
when I was a baby, and picked up at sea floating in a 
cask.” 

“Then,” exclaimed Wolfe’s mother, standing up in her 


BREEZE STARED IN AMAZEMENT AT WOLFE’S MOTHER 















Startling Discoveries. 333 

excitement, “ you must be the son of our own Mr. Tris- 
tram, and the heir to Tresmont ! Don’t you see the like- 
ness, husband ? He is the very image of Mr. Tristram.” 

Yes, the squire saw it, and had noticed it the very 
moment he set eyes on tho young gentleman. Now it was 
plainer than ever to him. There were the same blue eyes, 
the same closely curling yellow hair, and the same tall 
straight figure. There could not be the slightest doubt 
of it. 

Breeze was so bewildered by this wonderful turn of 
events, and by the tumult of conflicting emotions aroused 
by what he had just heard, that for a few moments he 
was speechless, and appeared like one in a dream. Final- 
ly finding his voice, he said to the squire, 

“ If you knew my real father and mother, sir, won’t you 
please tell me something of them ?” 

“ Of course I will, sir ; but it will make a long story to 
tell, even the little I knew of them. So we’d better seat 
ourselves comfortable - like ; and with my wife here to 
help me where my memory fails, I think perhaps I may 
come at the telling of it understandingly.” 

Thus saying, the worthy man began, and in spite of 
many interruptions from his wife and the questions asked 
by both Breeze and Wolfe, he finally succeeded in relat- 
ing the following tale : 


334 D ory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“As you already know, sir, before we were married 
both my wife and I lived in the family of Sir Wolfe 
Tresmont, of Tresmont in Lincolnshire, England, she as 
lady’s-maid and I as butler. When I first took service 
there Mr. Tristram was a fine young gentleman of about 
your own age, although the missis, having been brought 
up in the family, had known him from his boyhood. 

“After I had been in the family for five years, one of 
which we had been married, Mr. Tristram got through 
with his college, and was sent off on his travels around 
the world. His mother died while he was gone, but his 
father heard from him regular. 

“ At last there came a long letter, telling as how Mr. 
Tristram had got married to an American young lady, 
who was the daughter of a ship captain. She went with 
her father to the East Indies, and somewhere out there 
Mr. Tristram met them, and engaged passage to Hew 
York on the same ship. They fell in love with each other 
on the voyage, and were married as soon as the ship 
reached port. Then he wrote to his father what he had 
done, and asked if he might bring his wife home. 

“ Sir Wolfe was very angry at all this, for he had no 
love for the Yankees, begging your pardon, sir, and he 
could not bear the thought of his only son marrying one 
of them. What he wrote to Mr. Tristram I never knew, 


Startling Discoveries. 335 

but at any rate they did not come home for nearly two 
years, when they brought their baby, which must have 
been you, sir, with them. Mrs. Tristram, as we called her, 
was one of the sweetest young ladies as ever I laid eyes 
on ; but Sir Wolfe would not see her, and they stayed with 
Mr. Tristram’s elder sister, who was my Lady Seabright. 

“While they were there, I met the nurse one day 
wheeling the baby in his little carriage, and when I 
stopped to look at him I took notice of this very identical 
gold ball hanging around his neck. The nurse said it was 
one of them puzzle-balls that Miss Merab — that was your 
mother, sir — had got in the East Indies, and had had fixed 
up as a present for Mr. Tristram. It was he himself fast- 
ened it to a gold chain and hung it around the baby’s 
neck. I never saw the inside of it, but my wife there did 
many a time, for she was stopping with my Lady Sea- 
bright, in place of her own maid, who was sick all the 
time Mr. Tristram and his wife were there. 

“ Finally they decided to go back to America, and as 
the doctor said a long sea voyage would be the very best 
thing for Mrs. Tristram’s health, they took passage on a 
sailing-ship, of which I mind the name well, it being such 
a queer one. It was Senora , and from the day she left 
Liverpool docks to this never a word has come from her, 
good or bad. 


336 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“Soon after that I left Sir Wolfe’s service, and he 
helped me start the little business that I’ve followed ever 
since here in Queenstown, with fairly good success, thanks 
to the Americans. I never saw him again ; but I heard 
he was never the same man after the ship his son had 
sailed in was given up for lost. He died about six months 
ago, rest his soul, and at that time the newspapers all over 
the world, but particular in America, had advertisements 
in them asking for any information of Mr. Tristram, or 
his wife, or their son, who would, if he was alive, be heir 
to Tresmont. I saw some of the advertisements myself, 
and heard of others from my American customers ; but I 
never knew of any answer coming to them, and I don’t 
suppose there ever was one. 

“ And now, sir, I have no doubt in the world that you 
are the son of Mr. Tristram and his sweet young Ameri- 
can wife, and the same little baby that I saw in its car- 
riage. If you are, you are heir to Tresmont, own cousin 
to Lord Seabright, and your name is Tristram Coffin 
Tresmont.” 

“ Why,” said Breeze, “ was my mother’s name Coffin ?” 

“ Yes, Merab Coffin ; and her father came from a place 
in America they call Nantucket, I believe.” 

Wolfe was even more excited than Breeze over the tale 
they had just heard ; the facts of which, if proved, would 


Startling Discoveries . 337 

make such a difference in the fortunes of his dorymate. 
The glittering prospects of the future seemed to make but 
little impression upon Breeze ; but they instantly flashed 
across Wolfe’s mind in all their brilliancy, and he asked his 
parents many questions concerning Tresmont. From 
them the boys learned that it was situated in the northern 
part of Lincolnshire, and overlooked the Humber with its 
broad fen -lands. They also learned that much of the 
family property was invested in the fisheries of Grimsby, 
which is the largest fishing port in the world. 

“ That alone would go a long way towards proving you 
the son of the family, 4 Sir Breeze,’ ” laughed Wolfe, 44 for 
you have taken as naturally to fishing as a dory to water. 
I told you that you were a prince in disguise, and you 
promised to remember me when you came into your king- 
dom. How I claim the captaincy of your largest smack.” 

44 You shall be admiral of the whole fleet!” answered 
Breeze, with a smile. 44 You know, old man, that no mat- 
ter what might happen, I could never forget the dory- 
mate with whom I had drifted through the fogs of the 
Newfoundland Banks. By-the-way, how did you manage 
to get the brig into port after Nimbus and I left you in 
such a hurry ?” 

Wolfe told him of the cruise, of their safe arrival in 
Gloucester, of the meeting between Captain McCloud and 


338 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

the loving wife who had never given him up for lost, of 
the sadness occasioned by their boy’s absence, and of how 
his adopted mother still watched for him with a firm faith 
that he would yet return to her, of the salvage money re- 
ceived, and of so many other things, that more than an 
hour was occupied in the telling of them all. 

Then Breeze had to narrate his adventures after tum- 
bling overboard from the brig, and tell of being picked 
up by the Fish-hawk , of the great cuttle-fish, of finding 
the ambergris and losing the schooner, of Iceland and its 
wonderful geysers, and, in fact, of all that had happened 
to him since the dorymates had last seen each other on 
the deck of the Esmeralda . “And to think, Wolfe,” he 
said, “that this meeting is but the end of the cruise on 
which we started together so long ago, against our will, 
in the old Vixen /” 

“It only goes to prove,” said Wolfe, “how very much 
stranger truth is than fiction. If all your adventures were 
written in a book, no one would ever believe they had 
ever actually happened. Would they, father?” 

“Well, no, my son,” replied the squire. “I can’t say 
that they would, and I don’t know that anybody could be 
blamed for the doubting of them. Sir Wolfe used fre- 
quent to tell of the remarkable adventures of a gentle- 
man of the name of Polo ; but to my mind, these here of 


Startling Discoveries. 339 

Mr. Breeze — begging his pardon, T mean Sir Tristram — 
beats them away out of sight.” 

Thus talking, they all became hungry ; and by the time 
they had finished the nice little supper that Wolfe’s moth- 
er prepared for them, and were ready to go to bed, it was 
long past midnight. 

Breeze had been told one thing that evening that trou- 
bled him greatly, and it was that, in case he had not been 
found, Lord Seabright, who was now the executor of Sir 
Wolfe’s estate, would have inherited it. He could not 
bear the thought of thus stepping in and claiming a prop- 
erty that would otherwise belong to one who had shown 
him such great kindness. 

It was this thought that caused him to assent rather 
reluctantly, when, after a late breakfast the next morn- 
ing, Wolfe proposed that they should go on board the 
/Saga, and see if her owner had rejoined her. At any 
rate, he said, he would like exceedingly to visit the 
yacht, and to renew his acquaintance with Nimbus. 

When they reached the landing-place, the shrill sound 
of the silver whistle that Breeze carried soon brought a 
boat from the yacht to them ; and as they were rowed off 
Breeze was relieved to learn that Lord Seabright had not 
arrived. 

Wolfe was astonished, as well as delighted, with all that 


340 Dorymates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

was shown him on board the beautiful craft ; but nothing 
pleased him so much as the meeting with Nimbus, to 
whom he had taken a great fancy during their one day’s 
acquaintance on board the Esmeralda. 

Nimbus was just lifting down a pan of flour from a high 
shelf as Wolfe appeared, unannounced, at the galley door. 
The black man started so violently at the sudden sight of 
one whom he supposed to be on the other side of the 
ocean that the pan of flour was upset, and he was in- 
stantly covered from head to foot as with a mantle of 
snow. Quickly recovering his presence of mind, the good- 
natured cook exclaimed, 

“Golly! Misto Wolfe Brady. You scare um pore 
brack man so he turn white ! Where you leab um ole 
EsmeraV an’ de cap’n ?” 

Amid his shouts of laughter at the negro’s comical ap- 
pearance, Wolfe helped to brush him off, and at the same 
time explained his own presence on board the Saga. 

After a lunch, which Nimbus insisted upon getting for 
them, the young men returned to the city. As they were 
walking up the main business street, a carriage that was 
driven rapidly towards them suddenly drew up, and a 
cheery voice called out, “ Hello, McCloud !” 

It was Lord Seabright, who had just arrived, and was 
on his way to the yacht. He asked Breeze if his compan- 


Startling Discoveries. 341 

ion were the friend whom he had expected to meet. When 
Breeze answered that he was, and that his name was Wolfe 
Brady, the other exclaimed, “ What ! not the son of the 
Brady who used to be butler to Sir Wolfe Tresmont? I 
believe he did come to Queenstown to open some kind of 
a shop.” 

Breeze said that was the very person, and, moreover, 
that they were stopping in front of his shop at that very 
moment. Upon this his lordship said he must step in and 
speak to the old fellow, whom he remembered very well. 

Squire Brady was greatly flustered by the sudden ap- 
pearance in his humble establishment of this titled visitor ; 
but, reassured by his cordial greeting, he gathered up his 
wits, and saying that he had a communication of the great- 
est importance to make to him, begged his lordship to step 
into his private office for a moment. 

Somewhat puzzled, and wondering what it could be, the 
young man good - naturedly consented. After the door 
had been carefully closed, and his visitor had refused an 
offered chair, the worthy shopkeeper and ex-butler said, 
mysteriously, 

“ My lord, I have every reason to believe that the heir 
to Tresmont has appeared.” 

“ Yes, so have I.” 

“ And that he is a young man.” 

25 


34 2 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

“ Yes.” 

“ From America.” 

“ Yes, I know.” 

“ Who was picked up at sea when an infant.” 

“ Certainly ; I know that. Anything else ?” 

“ He is the own son of Mr. Tristram and his American 
wife.” 

“ Of course he is.” 

“ And he’s got evidence to prove who he is.” 

“ I examined his evidence in London yesterday.” 

“ But he was not in London.” 

“ I saw him there, I tell you.” 

“ He spent last night in my house, your lordship.” 

“ Who on earth are you talking about, Brady ?” 

“The young gentleman who came on your lordship’s 
yacht, and who calls himself Breeze McCloud, but who is 
really your lordship’s own cousin, Sir Tristram Coffin Tres- 
mont.” 

“Come, come, Brady! .you don’t know what you are 
talking about,” said Lord Seabright, impatiently. “ I left 
Sir Tristram Coffin Tresmont in London yesterday, and 
he is no more Breeze McCloud than I am. Whatever have 
you got into your head ?” 

“ But, your lordship,” persisted the shopkeeper, now con- 
siderably excited, “ this young gentleman wears the golden 


Startling Discoveries . 343 

puzzle-ball fast to a chain around his neck that was give 
to Mr. Tristram by his wife, which I saw it with my own 
eyes on him when he was a blessed infant in his car- 
riage.” 1 

“ So does the Sir Tristram Coffin Tresmont now in Lon- 
don wear a golden chain from which hangs a golden 
puzzle -ball, as you call it, that was fastened around his 
baby neck by his father, to whom it was presented by his 
wife. Is there anything more ?” 

“ Well, I am beat !” gasped the astonished shopkeeper, 
wiping the perspiration from his forehead. 

“ So am I,” said Lord Seabright. “ It’s bad enough to 
have to give up a fine property that I have for some time 
considered my own ; but to have two claimants to it ap- 
pear at once, and each of them producing the same proof 
of his identity, is a little too much. Have you any other 
reason for thinking this young friend of yours is what he 
claims to be ?” 

For answer the shopkeeper opened the door, and call- 
ing Breeze into the office, asked him to show his lordship 
the locket he wore about his neck. 

Breeze produced the ball, opened it, and offered it for 
Lord Seabright’s inspection. 

“ Exactly the same,” said he, looking at it carefully. 

Then Breeze touched the inside spring, and displayed 


344 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

the three tiny locks of hair, and the inscription on the 
under side of the plate. 

“ Hello ! This is something new,” exclaimed Lord Sea- 
bright. “ This proof goes away ahead of the other chap’s. 
We must look into this matter more closely.” 


Proud of being a Yankee . 


345 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

PROUD OF BEING A YANKEE. 

r pO explain the curious state of affairs disclosed in the 
last chapter, it is necessary to go a long way back in 
our story, and recall the New York jeweller who had 
shown Breeze that his locket could be opened, and had 
then tried to obtain it from him. This man had seen the 
advertisement asking for any information concerning Mr. 
Tristram Tresmont, or his son, and it had made such an 
impression upon him that he had studied it carefully. He 
had even looked up the Tresmont coat of arms in a book 
on heraldry, that contained colored plates of such things. 

When Breeze brought the golden ball to him he was 
at first interested in it as a puzzle, and then startled at 
the sight of its contents. He hastily compared its coat 
of arms with the one in his book, and noted the little 
compass that it contained. So hurried was his examina- 
tion, however, that he did not discover the second spring, 
and consequently knew nothing of the locks of hair or 
the inscription. 


346 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

It had flashed across the mind of this bad man that if 
he could obtain possession of the ball, he might receive a 
reward for it, or perhaps use it in making a claim upon 
the Tresmont estate; for it had been mentioned in the 
advertisement as one of the proofs by which the missing 
child might be known. He did not tell Breeze of what 
he had discovered, for he hoped to make more out of his 
information in another way. 

Failing to buy the trinket, he had tried to have it left 
with him at least overnight, that he might study it more 
carefully ; but this plan was spoiled by the lad’s prompt 
action and the interference of the police. Then the jew- 
eller procured a second labyrinth ball, and aided by the 
book on heraldry, fitted its interior with enamelled plates 
of thin gold bearing the Tresmont coat of arms. While 
doing this he planned a bold scheme, which he thought 
might be safely carried out, for obtaining at least a share 
of the Tresmont property. 

This was nothing more nor less than the taking of his 
own boy, who was about the same age as Breeze, to Eng- 
land, and by means of the false locket persuading people 
to believe him to be the son of Mr. Tristram Tresmont. 
Having carefully worked out every detail of this wicked 
plan, the jeweller finally appeared with his son, whom he 
had trained to be as bad as himself, before the Tresmont 


Proud of being a Yankee. 347 

family lawyer, and claimed to have discovered the true 
heir to Sir Wolfe’s property. 

The lawyer listened to all that he had to say, and be- 
came almost convinced that he was telling the truth, but 
declined to commit himself to one thing or another until 
Lord Seabright, who was then in Iceland, should return. 
The false locket was even shown to a number of old Tres- 
mont and Seabright family servants, who declared it to 
be the very same that had been clasped by Mr. Tristram 
about the neck of his infant son. 

When Lord Seabright returned to London the whole 
case was submitted to him ; and although he disliked ex- 
ceedingly the appearance and manner of the young man 
who claimed to be his cousin, he could not help admitting 
that all the evidence seemed to be in his favor. 

The wicked father had been recalled to America upon 
urgent business about a week before Lord Seabright’s re- 
turn to the city ; but his case seemed to be progressing 
so favorably that he had not hesitated to leave it for a 
short time in the hands of a lawyer whom he had en- 
gaged. He never dreamed that the Yankee fisher-lad 
would succeed in opening the ball ; or that if he did he 
would understand the meaning of its contents, or realize 
their value. 

Thus the case stood when Squire Brady introduced an 


348 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

entirely new feature into it by drawing Lord Seabright’s 
attention to Breeze McCloud and the locket that had been 
placed about his neck when he was a baby. 

The young Englishman was as decided in his character 
and as prompt in action as Breeze himself. How he de- 
termined to sift this matter to the very bottom, and to 
make a personal investigation of all the facts regarding it 
that could be discovered. Having rapidly thought out 
his plan, he said to Breeze, as they left the linen-draper’s 
shop together, 

“ Look here, McCloud, I like you a thousand times bet- 
ter than I do that other chap, and should be pleased to 
acknowledge you as a relative. I think, too, that your 
story is a much more likely one than his ; but I am not 
yet wholly satisfied that you are my cousin Tristram. 
How, I have a plan to propose, which is this : If you will 
stay quietly here in Queenstown with the Bradys for a 
few days, until I can attend to some business affairs in 
London, I will come back for you, and take you to 
America in the Saga. There we will see what we can 
discover in regard to your early history. In the mean 
time Mr. Marlin can sell your ambergris for you in Lon- 
don. What do you say ?” 

What could Breeze say to this generous offer except to 
thank his kind friend for it, and to accept it gladly ? 


Proud of being a Yankee. 349 

Although expecting the return of the Saga from day to 
day, and consequently not writing home, Breeze waited 
two weeks in Queenstown before Lord Seabright’s busi- 
ness would permit him to start for America. 

When at last the yacht did arrive, Wolfe Brady, who 
had been disconsolate at the idea of again losing his dory- 
mate, was made supremely happy by the offer of a mate’s 
position on her. 

At the same time Breeze was astonished to learn that 
the ambergris he and Nimbus had picked up had been sold 
for fifty -six thousand dollars, which, when divided, accord- 
ing to Gloucester fishing law, among the crew of the 
Fish-hawk , would give them two thousand dollars apiece. 

Ten days after leaving Queenstown, the Saga , having 
on board Lord Seabright, the dorymates Breeze McCloud 
and Wolfe Brady, and their highly prized friend Nimbus 
the cook, rounded Eastern Point, and steamed swiftly up 
Gloucester harbor. 

It was late in the afternoon, and as Breeze eagerly 
turned his gaze towards the little white cottage on the 
eastern heights — that was the only home he had ever 
known — it was radiant with the glory of the setting sun, 
and seemed to be smiling a welcome to him. How the 
boy’s heart thrilled as he looked upon the familiar sights 
of the harbor, and thought of all that had happened to 


350 Dory mates: A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

him since he had left it, an unwilling prisoner on board 
the Vixen. Why, there she lay now, at anchor in the 
stream, the same shabby, disreputable -looking old craft. 
And there, too, was the Albatross. What recollections 
the sight of her aroused in the minds of the dorymates ! 

The yacht had hardly dropped anchor before Breeze 
had been set ashore, and was climbing the hill towards 
the little cottage. He was alone, for his friends would 
not intrude upon his first meeting with those whom he 
loved so dearly. 

Captain and Mrs. McCloud had just sat down to supper, 
when, without warning, the door was flung open, and 
their boy, alive, well, and handsomer than ever, stood be- 
fore them. 

So long as he lives Breeze will never forget his mother’s 
cry of “ My boy ! my boy ! my darling boy !” as she 
sprang to him, clasped him in her arms, and sobbed out 
her great joy upon his neck. 

There were even glad tears on Captain McCloud’s weath- 
er-beaten cheeks, as he held both the lad’s hands in his 
sturdy grasp and exclaimed, “ Thank God, my son, that 
you have been brought in safety back to us.” 

The happy inmates of the cottage got but little sleep 
that night, and the next day all Gloucester rang with the 
joyful news that Breeze McCloud, who had long since 


breeze’s welcome home. 







Proud of being a Yankee. 35 1 

been given up for lost, had come back safe and sound, and 
bringing a fortune with him. Above all, it was whispered 
that he had come as dory mate of a real, live English lord, 
who had picked him up somewhere near the north pole, 
and brought him home in the finest steam-yacht that ever 
was seen. 

Soon after breakfast that morning Lord Seabright and 
Wolfe Brady appeared at the McCloud cottage, and were 
warmly welcomed — the former for his great kindness to 
Breeze, the latter for himself. The English gentleman 
had asked both Breeze and Wolfe not to say anything at 
present regarding his errand to America. After a while 
he led the conversation to Breeze, the mystery surround- 
ing his parentage, and his rescue from the floating cask 
when a baby. 

Then Captain McCloud showed them the very cask that 
had proved so truly a life-boat to the boy. He told them 
the date of its discovery, and pointed out on its bottom a 
partially erased stencil-mark, over which he said he had 
often puzzled in vain. It was something like this, PE — 
IP — NORA, and although Lord Seabright did not say so 
at the time, he felt pretty sure that it had originally been 
“ PER SHIP SENORA.” 

Next, Mrs. McCloud brought out the baby-clothes Breeze 
had worn when first laid in her arms, and on one dainty 


352 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

little garment showed them the embroidered letters 
“ T. C. T.” 

After a while they all went on board the Saga, where 
her owner had invited them to luncheon. Here the un- 
bounded joy of Nimbus at again meeting with the “ cap’n,” 
in whose company he had suffered so much on board the 
Esmeralda , was touching to witness. 

After luncheon, as they stood on the deck of the yacht, 
a weather-beaten fishing schooner, with her flag at half- 
mast, came sailing slowly up the harbor. 

“ She is bringing sorrow to some poor souls,” said Mrs. 
McCloud, as she noted the mournful sign. 

“Why, mother, it’s the Fish-hawk /” shouted Breeze, 
springing up in great excitement. 

In a short time the vessel had approached so closely 
that there could be no doubt of it. She was the very 
schooner that he had left so long ago off the coast of Ice- 
land. At length she drew so near that they could dis- 
tinguish the features of those on her deck. 

Suddenly one of them shaded his eyes with his hand, 
and gazed earnestly at the yacht. Then, with a joyful 
cry, he sprang to the signal -halyards, and in a mo- 
ment the schooner’s colors streamed out full and free 
from her mast-head, while a wild cheer broke from her 


crew. 


Proud of being a Yankee . 353 

« 

“ Hurrah for Breeze McCloud ! Hurrah for Nimbus l n 
they shouted over and over again. 

“ The flag was at half-mast for us, mother,” said Breeze, 
his voice choking with emotion. At the same moment 
the deep-mouthed roar of the yacht’s cannon answered the 
cheers of the Fish-hawk's crew. 

They, poor fellows, had had little enough cause for joy , 
for their whole weary cruise had been nearly barren of 
results, and they had come home poorer than when they 
left. Their sadness was, however, exchanged for great 
rejoicing, and their poverty for riches, when they heard 
of the good-fortune of Breeze and Nimbus, and knew that, 
owing to it, their schooner was “ High-line” of the fleet 
for that season, and that they were worth two thousand 
dollars apiece. 

As soon as his anchor was dropped, Captain Coffin 
went on board the yacht to see Breeze, and to hear the 
wonderful story he had to tell. Then Breeze went back 
with him to the Fish-liawk , to be the bearer of his own 
good news to her crew, who shouted themselves hoarse in 
greeting him. Never was there a happier home-coming 
to any schooner of the Gloucester fishing fleet. 

Of all those men who had just sailed down from the 
icy northern seas, none was so overjoyed at the sight of 
Breeze as old Mateo. He regarded the lad as his boy, 


354 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks . 

and had been inconsolable over his loss. Now his happi- 
ness was so great that he could not control himself. He 
sobbed and laughed in the same breath, as he exclaimed, 
“ Ah, Breeza, ma boy! ma boy ! Yon is come back, an’ ole 
Mateo could sing an’ dance an’ holler, he vas so hap.” 

It was a day of joyful meetings, and one long to be re- 
membered. The skipper of the Vixen came to welcome 
Breeze, and to tell him that a hundred dollars had been 
placed to his credit, as his share of that schooner’s catch 
on the Grand Bank. Hank Hoffer came ; and many an- 
other, who had felt a diffidence about venturing on board 
the English lord’s yacht, rowed out to the Fish-hawk to 
greet him there. Was it not worth all that he had gone 
through to be thus welcomed home ? Breeze thought it 
was, and as much more. 

The next day the Saga sailed away, leaving Breeze be- 
hind, and it was a week before she returned. The first 
notice the McClouds had of her coming back was the ap- 
pearance of Lord Seabright at their cottage late one 
evening. 

He greeted Mrs. McCloud and the captain, and then, 
turning to Breeze with out-stretched hand, he said, “ Cous- 
in Tristram, I am proud to welcome you as a relative, and 
as master of Tresmont. How soon will you go back to 
England with me ?” 


Proud of being a Yankee . 355 

Before Breeze could answer, Lord Seabright turned to 
the others, and told them the whole story. He ended it 
by stating that he had discovered the rascally jeweller 
in Hew York, and compelled him to own up to his vil- 
lany and admit the falsity of his claim upon Tresmont. 

“ How,” he said,“ I want to take Cousin Tristram home 
with me, and place him where he may become fitted to 
take charge of the great English estate that will be his 
as soon as he comes of age.” 

“ But I don’t want to become an Englishman !” ex- 
claimed Breeze, now finding a chance to speak. “ I am 
an American by birth, I have grown up as an American, 
and an American I mean to be, just so long as I live. 
Oh, sir ! if you are truly my cousin, as you say you are, I 
would a thousand times rather you would keep whatever 
English property might be mine, and leave me here to 
live with those whom I love and who love me.” 

Ho entreaties nor inducements in the shape of the 
brilliant career open to him in England could alter his 
determination. He said that while he should be proud 
to be an Englishman if he had been born in England, 
having been born in Yankee land, he was more proud 
than anything of being a Yankee, and that he would not 
exchange that title for any other in the world. 

Finally Lord Seabright, who had always been anxious 
26 


356 Dory mates : A Story of the Fishing Banks. 

to possess the Tresmont property, which adjoined his own, 
said, 

“Well, Cousin Tristram, I do not know but that you 
are right. A man can have but one country, and the one 
he will always love the most is the one in which he was 
born and has passed the first twenty years of his life. 
Such being my belief, I will make you this offer : I will 
purchase Tresmont of you, if you are willing to sell it, 
when you become of age, paying you its full money value. 
Besides this, you will have a handsome income from the 
invested property left by your grandfather. The only 
conditions that I attach to my offer are that in the mean 
time you will complete your education in the best Amer- 
ican university, and that you will spend every summer 
vacation for the next three years with me in England.” 

“ It’s a bargain, sir,” cried Breeze, “ provided I can 
have money enough now to pay Wolfe Brady’s expenses 
through college as well as my own.” 

“ My dear fellow,” replied Lord Seabright, “ there is 
money enough already held in trust for you from Tres- 
mont to pay the expenses of every boy in this town 
through college, and you would be welcome to as much 
more if you wanted it.” 

Here, with a parting word, we must leave the manly 


357 


Proud of being a Yankee . 

young fellows whose adventures on the Fishing Banks 
we have followed so closely. Breeze — or “ Sir Breeze,” 
as his college friends delight to call him — and Wolfe are 
no longer dorymates, but classmates. The former means 
to study law, and says that, though he had an English fa- 
ther, his mother was an American, and as he was born in 
America, he may some day be President of the United 
States. Who knows ? 

Wolfe says that although, having been born an Irish- 
man, he can never be the head of the nation, he would 
like to be Secretary of the Navy. He begs that his friend 
will bear this in mind when he becomes President, and 
Breeze gravely says he will. 

Wolfe does not like to study, but Breeze keeps him up 
to it, while he keeps Breeze from studying too hard. 

With a portion of the wealth that is soon to become 
his, Breeze expects to build a steam-yacht which shall be 
the equal, in every respect, of the Saga. Her name is to 
be Merab , and her private signal a blue flag bearing a 
golden ball, while on her bows, in letters of gold, is to 
be engraved the legend, “ Point True.” 


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